


City of Devils

by ishka



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Blood and Violence, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6473683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishka/pseuds/ishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sousuke, a career criminal, is finally in a position to re-build his formerly glamorous underground fortune. Unfortunately his business partner has made changes in his absence, and would rather betray and kill him than follow through on their agreement. </p><p>Sousuke's pretty pissed off about this development, and won't be lingering in the afterlife for long. He underhandedly steals a second a chance at life, and gets to learn about a few things worth dying for.</p><p>(All Dogs Go to Heaven AU- seriously. Character death tagged for the obvious; no surprises.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A city of devils we live

**Author's Note:**

> I watched All Dogs Go to Heaven for the first time in about 15 years a few weeks ago and naturally my reaction on the other side of it was “I should write a Free! AU of this”. So the general flow of the plot should come as no surprise, but I’ll mark it character death anyway to save my butt. The movie is older after all.
> 
> Here’s some cheesy (eventual) SouMako. SouKisu is the secondary ship, platonically. It’s just as important to the story so if you don’t like that, I warned ya here. It’ll be apparent quickly why Rin is not Sousuke’s bffl. No smut, but a few mature themes and generally dark concepts.
> 
> This was supposed to be pretty straightforward interpretation of the film I could write in a few days for the hell of it and then it suddenly goT VERY FAR AWAY FROM ME in a terrifying way. But I still had fun so I’ll share it. Hope it’s entertaining. This really is just a fun idea I wanted to try so don't take it too seriously.
> 
> To really solidify my position in the land of What the Fuck Am I Doing, this is all titled after a Yellowcard song I liked a decade ago.
> 
> Aaaaanyway.

“Hurry the _fuck up_.”

“I’m _trying_ , you ass. If you’d _help-_ ”

“I _am_ helping. I’m keeping watch.”

“Well if you’d grabbed a pipe _cutter_ and not the this goddamned pipe _wrench_ we’d be done by now!”

“This lowlife petty theft shit is _not_ my specialty, _Aladdin_.”

Sousuke glares at Kisumi until he moves from view again beyond the edge of the manhole, grits his teeth, and yanks the pipe wrench hard enough to make the entire network of pipes above his head rattle while the copper bar releases from its fitting with a short high-pitched squeak. He drops it into a burlap bag with the rest of the pipes he’s been able to spring free, and drops it at _just_ the right angle to make them all clang and echo down the tunnel.

“Hey, you idiot,” Kisumi hisses down to him. “Drop it harder next time; I don’t think our friends in Sydney heard that!”

“If I don’t bludgeon you with this pipe wrench before the end of the night it’s going to be a goddamned miracle,” Sousuke mumbles, reaching for the next pipe-

“Fuck, Sou, _Sou-_!”

“ _What_?”

“Time to go.”

Sousuke doesn’t question it, just drops the wrench in with the pipes and cinches off the bag. “Take it,” he commands, climbing up the ladder with one hand and offering their bounty to Kisumi with the other. Kisumi snatches it and Sousuke climbs out the rest of the way. He quickly takes stock of his surroundings, and doesn’t see anyone, but Kisumi’s pressing an earbud in closer with a pinched expression.

Kisumi flattens the strap of the burlap bag across his chest. “Feed says they found the hole in the fence, and they’re about to turn the water back on. They’re gonna find out _real_ quick where we were once they do. We gotta move.”

“Right,” Sousuke grunts. “Alt route.”

They walk swiftly to the other end of the warehouse, not bothering to re-secure the cover to the manhole. The flooding will be difficult enough for these guys to deal with. Kisumi pulls his knit hat down, not that it completely hides his painfully uniquely identifying hair or features, and Sousuke straightens his cap too to hopefully obscure his rather infamous face.

Sousuke makes a hard right out of the building, and they jog along the back to find their fallback way out. It’s farther than how they got in, and makes it riskier to get to it, but they know it isn’t caught on any of the cameras and the patrol skips it. They can climb the chain link fence, and they wore thick clothing and gloves to get over the barbed wire safely as a contingency in case it came to this.

Kisumi armbars him across the chest hard at the next junction, forcing him to stop and go flat along the wall. A few patrolmen run by the gap, walkie-walkies buzzing with chatter. “They’re not ha- _appy_ ,” Kisumi sings nervously.

“I’m sure. Do they know it’s us?”

“Not yet.” Kisumi cranes his neck around the corner to check for guards and peels off the wall to keep jogging. “Cross-chatter says _delinquents_. Ha.”

“Not _untrue._ ” They get to what should be a straight shot to the fence, but it’s cut off by a bright security light and a patrolman speaking into his radio. “What the fuck, when did that get put in?” Sousuke sighs.

Kisumi scoffs. “The schematic did _not_ have this.”

“What now?”

Kisumi looks around for a bit before his gaze settles back on the lone patrolman. “We take him out and keep going. By the time they find him we’ll be halfway back.”

“Hard to sneak up on someone standing under a stage light.”

“ _Distraction_ , genius. There _are_ two of us.” He rolls his eyes and stands straight, looking up. “Give me a boost to the roof of this.”

“Are you crazy? They’ll see you!”

Kisumi sighs impatiently. “Are we operating on two different definitions of _distraction_ here, Sou? I’m faster than you. Chokehold that guy and I’ll be gone before he hits the ground.”

Sousuke is uneasy, he knows they have weapons. But he knows Kisumi is telling the truth, too. Knowing his luck, Sousuke would jump off the roof to get away and break his ankle.

“I’ll be fine,” Kisumi assures him.

“All right, all right. Come on.” He folds his hands to make a step and Kisumi hoists himself up, steadying his hands on Sousuke’s shoulders. Sousuke throws everything he has into a short toss, since the top of the building is pretty high up, and Kisumi barely gets his elbows over. He scrambles up the plaster using his legs and manages one knee over the edge, and once Sousuke’s sure he isn’t going to tumble back to the ground he makes his way towards the watchman.

Kisumi’s quick. Sousuke catches just the smallest glimpse of his shadow zip along the top of the building, then he hears the bag of piping clanging purposefully and the patrolman’s head whips up, eyes wide.

“Hey-!” he barks. Sousuke takes his cue and sprints to the man’s back as he’s radioing his discovery and drawing his weapon, and gets his arm secured around the guy’s throat before he can shout in alarm. He flails against Sousuke for a steady few seconds before falling limp, and Kisumi jumps down from the roof as Sousuke lays him carefully flat. There are more shouts over the other side of the building. Their gig is about up.

“We got like, thirty seconds,” Sousuke throws over his shoulder as he takes off in a dead sprint for the fence. Kisumi catches up just as a crack of a gunshot snaps the air and the tall light begins to blare an alarm to draw in their pursuers. Looking behind to locate the shooter will only slow them down. They split to tackle two different areas of the fence instinctively so they’re not a two-person wide open target as they climb.

Sousuke’s not the most agile person, but adrenaline is just _fantastic_ for closing the gap and letting him scurrying up vertical surfaces quickly. The fence rattles and bows outwards as he throws himself at it, and he practically flies upwards as the shouting closes in. All he sees is the top and the dark safety beyond. Another crack of gunpowder must miss, he figures, since he’s at the barbed wire and not dead yet that he can tell. His clothing snags a bit on the wire, and when he throws himself over the top to land on the hard ground below, the fence keeps one of his gloves. The wind is knocked out of him but Kisumi enters his field of vision and pulls him up roughly, and before he can check and make sure no scope is lined up with his head they’re sprinting again over the rocky terrain and into the treeline.

They spill out onto a field and keep going until they’re back at a main road, and only then, some thirty minute run later, do they slow down to catch their breath. Kisumi wheezes and stops to bend and rest his hands on his thighs, and Sousuke gets himself out of his jacket before he overheats.

“Ah shit,” Kisumi pants. “They got ya.”

“Huh?” Sousuke grunts, looking himself over until he catches a dark stain spreading on his blue shirt at his shoulder. “Oh.” He touches it tentatively and winces, but it only stings. “Just a graze.”

Kisumi stands straight, lets out a deep breath, and peels out of his jacket and hat. “All this for fuckin’ copper.”

“Gotta re-start somewhere. Need some cash. We’ll offload this with Mikoshiba and be on our way.”

Kisumi shakes his head and shrugs the burlap sack back over his chest. “Taki is gonna flip his shit to see you alive.”

Sousuke grins. “He better.”

* * *

 

Takumi’s compound on the coastline just outside Tokyo is massive. A lot larger and more encompassing than Sousuke remembers it being a year prior, actually. It’s a hub for the low- _er,_ not necessarily the low- _est_ of society to convene and drink and place bets on one-hundred percent illegal dog races, and it fifty-percent belongs to Sousuke.

Well, as of a year ago it did.

He and Kisumi had to split town without warning when the Tokyo police opened a formal investigation into his activities. He did not launder his gains properly, got a bit too big for his head and careless. Takumi rightfully protected himself, but at least didn’t turn Sousuke in. He and Kisumi escaped to Australia on forged documents, and while he lost his money he at least hasn’t lost his freedom. Last he heard his case had gone cold, and even then he waited a few more months before conning his way back to Japan.

He figures the dogs are well taken care of, no one’s getting hurt, and Tokyo PD can go fuck itself.

Sousuke unassumingly enters the main hall and finds the drunken ruckus already in full swing. He and Kisumi make it a total of twenty steps before someone pulls a double take, and he garners a steady audience of murmurs and and wolf whistles from there.

He really hates the attention; it’s something Takumi pushed on him against his will to gain the trust of the seedy underbelly of society. He only has his eyes on his favorite bar. Everyone else will spread the word for him, and Takumi will summon him when he’s ready. They both take a stool and wait for Ryugazaki to work his way down the bar, and he gapes dumbly once he sees them.

“ _Well,”_ Rei states, his shock gone in a flash, already fishing two shot glasses from the line and setting them out to pour out a dark rum. “And here I thought the legend of resurrection was saved for more... westernly stories.”

Sousuke shrugs. “Kis is like, a quarter French.”

“On the three-hundred something-th day, we rose again,” Kisumi quips with a grin and thumps his chest. “ _Bulletproof_ , babe.”

Rei’s gaze falls to Sousuke’s shoulder. “ _Mostly_ , hm?”

“Mostly,” Sousuke laughs. “Just a cut. Got into a bit of a scuffle scrounging up the cash. Had to pay our new landlord like the upstanding citizens we pretend to be, you know?”

“I don’t,” Rei deadpans. “I only work here.”

Sousuke looks over as Kisumi clinks their glasses together and bottoms out the rum without waiting for him, and Sousuke follows suite. “What did we miss?”

Rei clears their shot glasses in silent premature cut-off, making Sousuke frown. “I’m hardly your hired gossip.”

“But you do such a good job anyway,” Kisumi coos.

Rei rolls his eyes and leans forward on his elbows to speak privately. “If you’d contacted me _before_ you came, I may’ve suggested at least scoping out the place before coming back from the dead and showing your face here again.”

“Oh?” Sousuke says. “Are you telling me there won’t be a welcoming committee?”

“I’m telling you this isn’t just a trashy pub anymore,” Rei says seriously. “Things have _changed_. Takumi didn’t think he made enough money off race gambling. Once you disappeared, he… well, he expanded his service line.”

Kisumi looks to Sousuke uneasily just as he creases his eyesbrows with concern. “What’s that mean?”

“It means you’re not the only famous face that’s gone missing over the last year, and he’s traded a lot of your dogs for guns, drugs, and most recently- _fighters_.”

Just as Sousuke’s about to storm off angrily and find Takumi himself, another staple face sidles up to the bar to drop off a platter of spent beer steins. “Are we gossiping, Rei?” he whispers excitedly. “Let me in!”

Nagisa Hazuki. A cheery, hyper, oblivious waiter. Until Sousuke realized he _listens_ , and he listens _well_. “A little,” Sousuke greets, clapping him in greeting on the arm.

“Good to see you both again,” Nagisa grins, totally unfazed by their presence. If anyone knew they’d been alive the entire time, it would be Nagisa. “Rei told you the doom and gloom?”

“Most of it. He’s hiring _fighters_?” Kisumi drills.

Nagisa nods enthusiastically. “Oh _yes_. Well... some are willfully hired. Some are tragically in debt with no other options. So I’ve heard. A brand spankin’ new building is opening next week that’ll officiate everything. It’s all underground right now.”

“Great,” Sousuke groans. “He gets to be the mobster he always joked about being. How the fuck am I supposed to cash out on a business like this?”

“Hmm,” Nagisa hums. “I guess you’ll find out. He wants to talk to you, like, _pronto_.”

“Sou,” Kisumi cuts in urgently. “I got a _bad_ feeling about this.”

Sousuke swallows hard. The entire situation _reeks_ of a path he does not want to be on. Gambling is fine; who gets hurt? But this bullshit mob lord business is something he’s always put his foot down over. “Me too. But you know we won’t be allowed out of here before we talk. Let me negotiate a payout for our partnership and we’ll split. It’ll be fine, all right?”

“Good luck,” Rei scoffs. “He’s more reaction than reason these days.”

Nagisa nudges him. “You better go see him, speaking of. More open to talking if you don’t piss him off, and he asked for you about five minutes ago.”

Sousuke stands with Kisumi, and Nagisa darts out to grab Kisumi’s elbow. “ _Not_ you,” he says suddenly low and thick. “Just wants big boss.”

“It’s just a talk,” Sousuke assures him, though his stomach is queasy. “He’s a prick, but we go way back. It’s fine.”

“I’ll wait nearby,” Kisumi says. “I _don’t_ fucking like this at _all_.”

He smirks in response and lets it fall away once he’s turned and walking to the elevator. The suit guarding it nods in recognition, and steps in with him to unlock the third floor. They travel up in silence, and another suit greets him coldly and walks him down a hallway. Past his old office, which he notices is someone else’s now.

Takumi’s door is ajar, and Sousuke’s let in to find his business partner stretched lazily on his couch. Same tall, skinny, gaudy asshole he’s always been, down to the hand-stitched pinstripe button down. He grins downright _wickedly_ at the sight of Sousuke, which does nothing for his nerves.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Takumi laughs, waving him over. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this, you devious son of a bitch. Thought they got you for _sure_.”

“Would you have expected anything less from me? Come on now,” Sousuke jokes back to the best of his ability. “Came by to make sure you hadn’t run this place into the ground since I took my sabbatical; you _suck_ with money.”

“On the contrary, you’ll see it’s received _quite_ the facelift.” Takumi stands and walks over to his liquor cart, pouring two drinks with his back to Sousuke. “How do you feel about that new arena? You should see the sort of money people put down on fist fights.”

“Didn’t catch it,” Sousuke answers hesitantly, taking his offered drink. Bourbon. He fucking _hates_ bourbon. “I’ll have to go over there after this.”

“How’s your cute little powder puff?”

Sousuke hides his snarl behind the grimace when he drinks. The way he talks about Kisumi makes his skin crawl, even when they’re on good terms. “He’s good,” he dismisses. “So I wanted to get brought up to speed.”

“Of course you do. That’s why you showed up!”

“I don’t like what I’m hearing, Takumi.”

Takumi regards him coolly over his own glass. “I wanted to fill a few roles that have been vacant a bit too long. It’s good business.”

Sousuke takes another sip. No need to get Takumi riled up. It’s just a discussion. “It’s _mob_ business.”

“Call it what you will. I prefer _protection_ for those without recourse. Clearly Tokyo PD can’t tell their heads from their asses if they couldn’t catch _you_ with that fluffy bright pink cotton ball tailing you like some sort of homing beacon. It’s just simple goods-for-services transactions, Yamazaki.”

“And the people you’re stomping into some sort of neo-serfdom? Is that protection too?”

“Sure,” Takumi shrugs. “If you go to a restaurant and can’t pay the bill, you clean some dishes. It’s not _slavery_ , it’s fair. They still get what they came to me for, they just pay me back a little differently.”

“By doing your dirty work or beating the shit out of each other.”

Takumi raises a hand to quiet him. “Hey, we don’t see eye to eye on this. It’s okay. I decided if you ever came back, you probably wouldn’t like this, so it’s not like I haven’t thought about it. Sou, I know this isn’t what you signed up for. But we’re business partners first, I get it. There’s a payout we agreed to a long time ago if we split, and I’m sure that’s why you’re here, and I am a _businessman_. Not into breaking contracts.”

Sousuke almost sighs with relief, even drinks more in a private celebration. He’s feeling buzzed, and realizes belatedly he probably hasn’t had enough to eat to be diving headfirst into straight liquor like this. “Glad we don’t have to beat around this.”

“Me too,” Takumi smiles. “Half is half, plus twenty percent. Oh, and…” Takumi sets his drink between his knees and uncouples a dark gunmetal grey watch from his wrist, extending it to Sousuke. “You left this behind, the one thing I kept from your office. If I didn’t wear it, I would’ve forgotten!”

As pissed as he is that Takumi fucking straight up _stole_ it, it _is_ one of his favorite possessions, he thinks. The _one_ year Kisumi got him a birthday gift that wasn’t just his middle finger. He takes it and slips it on. “... Thanks.”

“I think you’ll find it generous, and it should all be enough to retire to the countryside with your little-”

“Do not,” Sousuke warns suddenly. “Don’t piss me off when we’re having a perfectly civil conversation.” Of course Takumi would want him out of Tokyo for this. Far away, so no one who really knows him can betray him now that there’s something more at stake than a betting table.

“Fine, fine. Look, I already have the paperwork drawn up. I _know_ you, Sousuke.”

“Of course you do,” Sousuke mutters.

Takumi leans forward and cheers his glass. “Glad we could work it out so painlessly. We’ll get you a few temporary bank accounts and IDs, dump the money in, you withdraw a few days apart and be on your retired way. Live the good life.”

Sousuke sighs and finishes his drink, then watches the single ice cube distort and suddenly look _very_ far away. Takumi’s only grinning at him, and then that stretches and falls out of focus too. There’s no one thought he’s able to latch onto, only a sudden stab of terror trapped in a box deep in his mind that he can’t access correctly. He quietly sets the glass down on the floor, and stands up to leave- to fucking _run_ \- but gets a faceful of carpet.

The last thing he catches before he blacks out is the side of Takumi’s leather boot with the pawprint he chose years ago to represent their track branded into the material and lined with gold-leaf.

* * *

 

It’s taking too goddamned long.

Kisumi drums his fingers on the bar faster and faster until he’s so jumpy, Rei’s usually unimpressive presence startles a shout from him.

“... There’s a road out back. The code to the door is 3-7-0-6-1-3,” Rei remarks casually. “Could you take out this trash for me? I would, but I am just so busy, and Nagisa has mysteriously made himself scarce.”

Kisumi jumps off the stool and fishes his hat from his back pocket to pull down over his hair. “Thank you, _fuck_ , I owe you.”

Rei frowns grimly. “Please let me know if you find it all right.”

He nods and grabs the bag of trash and walks as casually as he can towards the back of the bustling room, through a double door that leads to the kitchen and past a line of chefs. He dumps the bag. The door Rei’s referring to is typically obscured by a half-wall and never any door Kisumi’s needed to be concerned with until now, though it’s in his nature to take in the layouts of the places he frequents for quick getaways considering his less than legal activities. He punches the code in with trembling fingers and lets himself out into the night without letting the door slam.

Of course Kisumi knows this compound sits on the coast, but perspective can be a bit skewed from the front. This door would lead straight onto the beach if it weren’t elevated up a steep drop. He jogs down the single-lane road that trends downwards, keeping his eyes peeled for _anything_ suspicious. It’s the dead of night now but a few shacks and a long dock come into focus in the moonlight as he edges closer, and he sees the headlights of a car parked near one of the shacks.

He _told_ Sousuke it was a shitty idea not to pick up phones first, dammit. Now he can’t even text him to make sure he’s okay.

Kisumi hates that the headlights are unnerving him and pulling him closer. Nothing about this eerie foggy night set up is jiving with him. As he gets closer, people come into focus. At least three lackeys and then the flash of color that is Takumi step in front of the headlights and discuss something.

He doesn’t see Sousuke, though, and that’s what’s making his blood run cold.

There’s enough cover cast by shadows alone that he can get closer without feeling nervous about it. He’s finally within distance to hear the voices, even if he can’t make out what they’re saying, and so pushes past his comfort zone to make the discussion out. He’s only _just_ hidden by a sharp cast of shadow provided by the tin roof of one of the shacks, and once he feels safe to linger there he hones in.

“-better if you just shoot him, _then_ throw him into the water.”

“It would be _better_ if we didn’t leave any evidence and let him sink as-is.”

Kisumi clamps a hand over his mouth, as if it’s the only thing keeping him from screaming.

“Boys, boys. Let’s not argue. Yamazaki is an old friend. We won’t be taking him out like a rabid dog.”

What the _fuck_ is he supposed to do? Four of them, one of him. They’re going to _kill Sousuke-_ Kisumi can’t breathe. If he intervenes, there’s no way he wouldn’t end up dead too, and he’s too close to panicking to think more critically than that.

“He likes to swim,” Takumi laughs. “So we’re sending him out doing what he loved, right? Call the cinderblock a bit of... strength training.”

The chuckles that earns makes Kisumi want to throw up. He’s never been more helpless in his entire life. When the sound of a car trunk pops, he flinches involuntarily. When he watches the three walk into view and down the pier with Sousuke unconscious between them, he’s frozen with horror.

Takumi joins them with the block and rope and squats to attach it to Sousuke’s ankles where he’s been set down on the edge of the pier.

“Been fun,” Takumi says. “Nothing personal.”

Kisumi will never forget Sousuke’s short, clipped shout that rings out as he’s kicked over the edge.

* * *

 

Well.

This is an… _odd_ addition to Takumi’s compound, Sousuke thinks. A _bit_ over-doing it, even for him.

It’s a seemingly endless room of… clouds. Pinks and oranges and purples, bright from every direction. Even the floor. Some sort of mirror trick, clearly. But... _why_?

He starts to walk to find the wall-

and walks,

and walks,

… and walks.

“What the fuck,” he more mouths than says. He’s walking through it like it’s fog, but something akin to _glitter_ shimmies off of _everything_ , yet doesn’t get on him. He spins in a slow circle, sees nothing but these damn clouds, and only then starts to consider he’s either dreaming or high.

“ _There_ he is, I fucking _told_ you he’d pop up in the cloud universe!”

“It’s not my fault, he was sorted for the blank white room with table and chairs! _Someone_ got it wrong!”

“Well it wasn’t _me!”_

Sousuke whips around and stares dumbly at two figures walking in his direction. Both are turned towards each other as they walk, arguing under their breath. Both have _raging_ red hair. The taller man is dressed in dark grey punkass clothing that makes Sousuke internally roll his eyes while the smaller woman is in something like a flowery spring dress, yellow and white and oddly threatening considering the fire she’s spitting back at this hipster kid.

“ _Hey_ ,” he calls.

The woman pauses mid-sentence and faces forward to smile at him. Sousuke catches that they both sport eyes as red as their hair, and that’s pretty fucking weird. A feat, considering the rest of this is already _exceptionally_ weird.

They come to a stop just in front of him. “Sousuke Yamazaki,” she greets cheerfully. “I’m Gou.”

“Rin,” the other grunts.

“Cool. I have a lot of questions containing the phrase _the fuck_ in the middle of them, so could you hop to it starting with _where_ and save me the breath?”

“This is the Hall of Judgement,” Gou supplies immediately. “We’re you’re judge and jury.”

“And the executioner?” Sousuke laughs dryly.

“Back on earth,” Rin answers with a grin. What in the name of all holy shit are those _teeth_? Sousuke’s seen some interesting body modification in his time but teeth filing always seemed, uh, _particularly_ niche. He can’t keep up with these hipsters.

And… back on earth?

“I’m not following.”

Rin and Gou share a quick glance, and Rin pulls at a nearby cloud to manifest a _thick_ , ridiculously large _tome_ from. That floats.

That’s normal. This is fine.

Rin clears his throat and cracks the book open. “ _Damn_ , Yamazaki. _Impressive_.”

Sousuke groans. Fine, he’ll list out all his questions after all. “Why the fuck am I here?”

“Oh, right,” Rin laughs. “You’re dead, pal.”


	2. Find somebody to learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sousuke causes a bit of a stir in more than one dimension.

“Come again?”

Rin flips the page of his ludicrously large floating encyclopedia and doesn’t look up. “Expired. Punched out for good on your life card. Permanently shed your mortal coil. Deceased. Game over, as the kids say. You know; _dead_.”

“As a doornail,” Gou adds. “There can be a _smidge_ of mental scrambling on the cross over. It’ll come back to you.”

Sousuke blinks between the two of them in disbelief. “So, _anyway_... I’m going to go ahead and pinch my arm now. Nice talking to you.” He brings his forearm up to kick his own ass out of this borderline hallucinogenic nightmare, and pauses.

When did he get his watch back?

Takumi gave it to him. Right before he blacked out.

“Wait a minute.”

“Welcome to the present, Sousuke,” Rin says sarcastically, flipping to another page. “Glad you could join us. Sucks about your murder. That wasn’t very nice.”

“That piece of _shit_ ,” Sousuke growls through his teeth. “He _killed_ me?!”

“You gotta keep up, man,” Rin sighs.

Gou pats his still-raised forearm. “It’s always a lot at once when you didn’t expect it.”

“And _I’m_ the one in a _Hall of Judgement_?!”

“Everyone has to pass through here,” she explains. “The angels and demons convene in this realm to decide your fate, looking over the sins you committed while you were alive.” Gou points to the book.

Well that explains the size.

“Then we decide if you’ll go with someone like me, or someone like Rin.”

“Gotta tell ya, this is a _quality_ read, Sousuke,” Rin laughs.

Sousuke glowers at him. “So I assume by your exceptionally shitty disposition and those daggers for teeth that you’re representing hell? Could lose the hipster-goth ensemble and still get your point across, Rin.”

Gou giggles and Rin snorts. “He’s cute, huh?” she chirps. “No no, look a little bit closer.”

Sousuke leans in where she’s pointing to the top of her head and notices the two small dark red horns poking out of her hair. A squint in Rin’s direction reveals a _barely_ noticeable halo. More a distortion of space than a glowing light.

“... I can’t fucking believe this.”

“Hell is very dark and my hair blends in,” Gou sighs. As if that’s Sousuke’s chief complaint. “I have to wear light colors or the souls I ferry lose track of me! The paperwork for that sort of thing is _gruelling_.”

“Wow, I sure will have to take your word for that,” Sousuke deadpans. “And what’s his explanation?”

“He thinks he looks cool.”

Rin glares at her as Sousuke steps closer to his book. “Well I wasn’t ready to die, so close that up and send me back.”

“No can do,” Rin says. “Though for how much of a swindling lowlife you were, you never killed anyone or stole from the poor... Gou?”

“I suppose,” she muses. “I mean, we’ve let worse by than him.”

“ _Wait_ ,” Sousuke protests. “That fucker killed me! Took my damn _money!_ I was _wronged_ and I need to go back!”

Rin closes the cover to the book and shoves it into nonexistence again, the only evidence left behind being a shimmy of glitter. “Dude. You are _dead_. What about this concept isn’t sinking in?”

“I get it, I get that. But I left Kis all alone with that shitbag, he’s taking off with my money, and he’s going to get away with _murder_. I can’t sit here in the clouds and let all that by, you understand?”

Rin looks ready to sucker punch him, and Gou hums sadly. “Let’s take him on a fieldtrip.”

Sousuke doesn’t get to ask what that means before a truly countless number of clocks of all different types and sizes surround them in their infinite cloud space. Everything from grandfathers to pocket watches, cuckoos to a few tall buildings in the distance reminiscent of Big Ben. All clocks. All broken.

“We understand,” Rin says. “But here’s the thing. Once your clock is busted, that’s _it_.”

Gou reaches out to the side and returns to center with what is practically a replica of the watch on his wrist. She holds it face out for him to observe. His name is printed small on the face, and the time is stopped shortly before what he assumes is midnight. “See?”

“The dial is popped out. Just wind it back up,” Sousuke reasons. “New battery. Whatever.”

“You get one ticket into this place, Sousuke,” Rin responds. “ _One_. If you leave you don’t get to come back, and Gou will get you instead. Quality control measures. Look, you come here to _rest_. Nothing’s going to hurt you here. You can wait for your friends. None of that worldly shit should mean anything now. You got _peace_.”

“I want _revenge._ ”

“There’s a lot we want that we don’t get in life by the time we die,” Gou says gently. “Rin’s right. You have peace now. You’ve had a busy, stressful life. Now all that’s behind you.”

“‘Sides,” Rin continues, “living is shit. _Huge_ struggle. You don’t want to go back to that existence. Earth is all about pain. Gou’s hell isn’t even as bad as what a human goes through while they’re alive.”

“Mostly true,” Gou confirms as she releases the watch to float between them all, taunting Sousuke. “Aside from that eternal hellfire element in the lower levels.”

“I’d argue to the contrary,” Rin half-whispers. “At least you go into hell knowing _why_ you’re being punished, right? Life kicks you while you’re down for no good reason.”

“All _right_ ,” Sousuke groans. “Fucking sadists. It doesn’t matter. I’m not ready to be here. You’re not changing my mind.”

“Bitch all you want,” Rin says with a shrug of finality. “We’re just here to tell you where you get to do it for all eternity.” He pulls another cloud into a sheet of parchment with a ton of fine print. “I need you to sign here, stating we went over why you’re here, where you’re going, et cetera, et cetera.”

Fuck this. He builds himself up from nothing, exiles himself, loses it all, comes back to start over, and loses it all and then some _again_? And Takumi walks away free to ruin people’s lives unchecked and spend Sousuke’s cash achieving it? No way in Gou’s debatably mild hell is he standing for this.

Sousuke clears his throat and pulls the parchment to himself. “Sorry, I don’t put my name on anything I haven’t thoroughly read.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Rin mumbles.

He skims it over, looking for anything to start an argument with. It doesn’t take long. “This says you’d be explaining the terms in a white room with table and chairs. It’s not even accurate from the get go. But let’s ignore that. Second of all, it says I died past midnight.” He reaches out for his floating watch- the moment of truth. “This watch stopped at five till.”

“There’s a bit of a debate on what _dead_ is,” Gou answers patiently.

“So if you reaped my soul when I still could’ve _technically_ been saved-”

“You were drugged, weighted, and twenty feet below water!”

“-then you may’ve robbed me of a chance to keep living.” Sousuke clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Your documentation and the evidence aren’t in line, and you want me to sign over eternity? Hell, this even claims I died _solely_ of cardiac arrest. I was drowned. The specific cause of death is cardiopulmonary systems failure secondary to _drowning_. They wouldn’t even bury me back on earth with your listed cause of death; it’s too vague. _Everyone_ dies of cardiac failure, technically. Honestly, who is your bookkeeper? This is garbage. If you were to be divinely _audited_ \- how fucked would you be?”

Rin is _fuming-_ his ethereal little halo is shaking with rage and Sousuke bites his cheek to keep from laughing at him. He still has his broken watch too.

“He has a point, Rin,” Gou whispers. “Records is so unorganized!”

Rin whips around to face her, gesturing crudely to Sousuke as he shouts. “Are you fucking kidding me?! This guy is _deader than dead_. There is _no way_ his early reaping accusation would stand up in Holy Court!”

“But it behooves us as custodians of the afterlife to be accurate and truthful! These sorts of things always come back to bite us!”

“This guy is a fuckin’ crook!”

“That has nothing to do with poor documentation!”

They’re not even paying attention to him. Nice. He trades out the watches, slowly snapping the latch on the new one and letting go of Kisumi’s gift with a tug of guilt to do so. He’ll have to thank him again for it; it just turned this entire situation around.

He’s got this crazy feeling that batteries don’t matter in the afterlife, too. Some sort of innate knowledge he’s been granted just being here. Must be an intentionally installed coping mechanism to help with the adjustment to napping on clouds forever in heaven.

“-and besides! He’s going to _heaven!_ What the fuck is he going to argue about that?!”

Sousuke hums cheerfully as he rolls up the parchment and extends his hand to return it to Rin and interrupt their argument. It achieved what he wanted it to.

“Rin, I sw-” Gou looks over. “Yes?”

“I won’t be needing this yet, as I said.” He gives an experimental flick to the face of the watch. “Got the time on earth?”

“Ten at night,” Rin answers stupidly.

“Great, thanks.” He twists the dial so the hands fall back to 10 on the nose. “Nice to meet you guys.”

They give each other that voiceless look of communication again before Rin’s jaw drops and Gou looks to the floating watch and back to him in stunned shock.

“Wait!” Rin manages to blurt out in a panic.

Sousuke checks the watch after he clicks the dial back in to see the second hand twitch back to life, and continues the movement up with his arm for a lazy salute.

“You can’t-!” Gou shouts, but she doesn’t finish before it all shatters away like broken glass.

* * *

 

He needs to swim up immediately, and that’s his first thought back on earth.

Sousuke swims up as hard as he can and breaks the surface sputtering and gasping for air- _way_ too close to drowning _again_ for his tastes. He flips onto his back to catch his breath for a few minutes and then slowly kicks his way back to shore, swimming parallel with the tide that’s trying to drag him out to sea until it’s finally shallow enough to stand and wade in. He collapses on the sand, totally exhausted like he hasn’t slept or eaten much in weeks, and shivering all the way though to the point of numbness.

His heartbeat stutters suddenly, making his stomach lurch in fear. He checks the wristwatch and finds the second hand ticking in place. A hard flick gets it moving again, and if he holds it at the right angle the water that’s leaked inside drains from it in steady drops. Fuck, that thing is fragile. At least it’s sort of water resistant. Not fully. Something to be mindful of.

 _Hey you fucking dumbass_ , Rin bites suddenly in his head. _Good going! You’re fucked, buddy. I told you you get ONE chance with me! Those are the rules!_

 _Your demon sister isn’t so bad to be honest,_ Sousuke thinks back clearly. _Pretty cute. I’d follow her into hell._

 _You’re lucky I won’t see you again,_ he growls with a rumble strong enough to give Sousuke a dull headache.

 _Makes two of us_ , Sousuke answers, and willfully shuts him out.

He needs to find Kisumi.

Sousuke forces himself to his feet and makes sure his way into the treeline is clear. It’s going to be a long walk in his current state, even if his apartment isn’t _that_ far. Still far enough to not be too close to the compound, a decision of his that was definitely a good one. It _just_ straddles the city line in a run down part of town, and with any luck Kisumi went home and isn’t still waiting for him.

Now that the thought comes to him, he doesn’t even know what day it is. He’s freezing his ass off and a lot of the treeline looks suspiciously sparse, and his last memory was of a warm and fully in-bloom summer, which makes him worry his lip that it could be months or even _years_ later.

He _widely_ circumvents the compound. Rest, dry clothes, and Kisumi are his top priority. He won’t know what to do with himself if Kisumi was dragged into this. Normally he never would’ve thought something so sinister of Takumi, who never went after anyone who didn’t begrudge him directly, but now?

It proves a terrible walk. He drags himself through the gnarled dead matter off the side of the road to travel unseen, and he’s moving so slowly he seriously considers that he won’t be home before dawn breaks. When he gets to his street, all manner of suspicious people stare him down, but luckily no one he recognizes as Takumi’s. It would be a bit counterproductive to ruin the element of surprise here.

He ends up nearly dragging himself up the stairs to his floor, pulling his weight along the handrail and everything. Whatever keys he was carrying on his person are long gone, so he drums a fist to the door and hopes he still has an intimidation factor on his side if it isn’t Kisumi who answers, or he might be ending this return trip short with some kind of kitchen knife slotted between his ribs courtesy of a terrified old woman.

It takes a few minutes, but the door finally cracks. Kisumi stares through half-consciousness and messy hair, uncomprehending, and slowly his face falls slack. He looks… just not all that great. Sousuke’s been driven this far to see him again, and thought it would be happier than this. But Kisumi’s only staring at him as if he’s there to sell magazines.

“Hey,” Sousuke greets thickly. “I feel like shit, can I come in?”

Kisumi steps aside in silence and softly closes the door after him, locking it. Sousuke crashes into a rickety wire-wrought chair in the kitchen. They didn’t have time to furnish the place when they got it, and Kisumi hasn’t made any changes. Kisumi pulls over a mismatched foldout chair.

“So…” Kisumi trails distantly. “Is this the one where you tell me what I could’ve done to save you or the one where you come back and kill me for not even trying?”

“Huh?” Sousuke frowns.

“Which dream is it? Come on, I want to wake up from it as soon as I can.”

“... It’s _me_ , Kis. This is real.”

Kisumi’s face goes dark with anger as he slams a fist onto the table top. “I sat on that pier after they left for _three hours_ waiting for you to come up for air. Don’t you fucking do this to me in my own goddamned head!” he shouts.

“Kisumi,” Sousuke pleads quietly. “It wasn’t _your_ fault. Do you really think that?”

“Fuck you,” he spits, rising stiffly from his chair and walking away.

Sousuke follows him the short walk to his bedroom and reaches out to touch his shoulder. “Kis, look at me-”

“Go _away!_ ” Kisumi cries. He throws an elbow back and clips Sousuke on the chin hard enough to make his teeth clack and throw him off balance in surprise, which sends him into the adjacent bedroom door.

Kisumi stops a step into his bedroom and slowly turns around while he rubs his elbow.

“ _Ow_ , all right,” Sousuke mumbles. “That help?”

“What the fuck is this?” he trembles.

“I’m _here_ , as I said! Need to hit me again?”

“Yea, fuckin’ maybe!” Kisumi shouts fearfully. “I- S- _What?!_ ”

Sousuke sighs. He hadn’t really considered how terrifying this would be for Kisumi, actually. “It’s a story for the morning. You believe me now?”

Kisumi takes a step forward. “Yeah, and I’m gonna hit you again.”

He closes his eyes at least in case Kisumi’s aim is off, and hopes he’ll scale back the power a _little._ Guy has a mean jab. But it doesn’t come, and Kisumi’s weight falls on him without restraint as his arms squeeze tightly around his neck instead.

“God-hf-f-fucking _dammit,_ Sousuke!” he sobs. “ _Where have you been?!_ ”

Sousuke rubs his back and lets him wail as loud as he wants to. Helps hide his own pathetic sniffles, which might be louder if he weren’t currently being strangled. “Sorry.”

“You s-smell like a f-f- _fish!_ And I should kill you again!”

“Sorry.”

“You should be!” Kisumi lets him go and drags the heels of his hands angrily across his heavy eyes. He looks exhausted, and not just from being woken up. A deep-set weariness Sousuke hasn’t seen on him in years. He’s always been thinner, but his night clothes are draping off of him like they used to when he’d steal them from Sousuke when they were younger. He’s duller all around. “You _ass_. Look what you did to me! I don’t even know what to _say_!”

With Kisumi’s support bracing him to the door withdrawn, Sousuke thinks this reunion might’ve taken whatever small atom of energy he still had, and at this point he’s happy to sleep on a floor. That and he’s concerned with what he sees, and it really would all be better saved for a calmer conversation. “Then let’s save it. Please tell me I still have a futon.”

“I didn’t touch anything,” Kisumi says quietly. “Couldn’t.”

“Yeah,” Sousuke chokes out without needing further explanation. “I uh. Well, thanks.”

“Right.” He looks at the floor. “Might be a little dusty. Haven’t been in there in awhile.”

“That’s okay. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Kisumi excuses himself to his bedroom with an unintelligible mutter, and Sousuke’s asleep before his head hits the pillow. He awakens to the soft click of his door an indeterminate amount of time later, and as far as Kisumi knows, he never finds out he was watched over until dawn.

* * *

 

Four months he’s been gone.

In that time, Takumi’s gained territory as deep as the heart of Tokyo. Kisumi admits he’s been threatened with violence if he so much as thinks of doing just about _anything_ , leaving him struggling to get by and terrified in his own home. If nothing else had happened to make Sousuke want to take Takumi out, that alone would’ve been reason enough.

“I don’t want that,” Kisumi sighs. “I want out of this. I want to leave.”

Sousuke folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair. “He needs to go down. We were _going_ to leave _._ He killed me and took that cash that made it possible. He can’t get away with it.”

“Sou, please,” Kisumi begs wearily. “You haven’t _been_ here. I’m exhausted. Please come with me. I can’t fight you on this anymore. _I want out_ , and you have a second chance to _live_. Don’t throw it away on him. I can’t follow you if you do this.”

He bites his lip and tries to muster up the same fury and bloodlust that brought him back from the dead, but it’s impossible in the face of his best friend so openly begging him for peace. He’s never put Takumi above Kisumi, and definitely wouldn’t start now.

“What does it solve if you kill him?” Kisumi continues. “You know he already has a long line of inheritors by this point, and you can’t take over it now. Not what it’s become. It’s not _you_ , Sou, and trust me- I want him dead just as much as you. But _please_ , Sou. He’s nearly untouchable. We’d lose _everything_ to try.”

Kisumi doesn’t beg. He’s never pleaded Sousuke for anything in the twenty something years they’ve been friends until this very moment. He’s always been too proud to do it. Sousuke owes him more than he can ever pay back in this lifetime or the next, too. He can’t deny him this, and Sousuke doesn’t _want_ to go where Kisumi won’t follow him. It takes the wind from his sails, but it’s something he can live with.

Sousuke’s had it _easy_. Kisumi’s the one who’s been affected the most by his death. If Kisumi doesn’t want revenge, who is most entitled to it now in Sousuke’s eyes, then Sousuke has no right to want it either. Killing’s just never been their style. “...You’re right. We’ll leave.”

Kisumi smiles for the first time since Sousuke showed up, and Sousuke can’t claim that he’s made a lot of great decisions with his life, but he’s hopes this is one of them.

Still, there’s the issue of… cash. Dreams cost money.

“Takumi has fighters now. We bet on one fight.”

“ _Sousuke_ ,” Kisumi groans.

“We need money to get out of here. Throw on our best disguises and head to the ring. Nagisa will know who to bet on. It’s a safe way for us to double up at least on whatever you have.”

“9,800 yen.”

“ _Jesus_. Uh, well that’s an entry level bet then. Sure. Or we can lift some more copper-”

Kisumi thumps his face onto the table top with a _smack_ that hurts Sousuke by proxy. “No! God!”

“Okay, okay. Bad idea. Fine, one bet. That tooth fairy money wouldn’t have got us very far anyway if we lose it.”

“So you hate what Taki does but you’re going to go and contribute to it?”

“It’s just one bet to help us out. It’s meaningless in the scheme of it,” he reasons. “Some mindless muscle head takes a simple hit or two for our freedom. That’s it.”

Kisumi clearly isn’t convinced, and averts his gaze to power through it. If he had any other ideas, he would’ve long since executed them before Sousuke ever came back. “And if we walk away with nothing? Next plan?”

Sousuke frowns. “... I need time to shoe in one more idea before generalized prostitution. Me, not you.”

“We are _so_ fucked,” Kisumi laughs nervously.

“Hey, I crossed dimensions to be this fucked. Don’t underestimate my determination here.”

“Have I ever?” Kisumi groans as he sits back up. “Duffel bag of costuming is in your room. Let’s gussy up one last time. If we run fast enough, the guilt can’t catch us. Or something.”

* * *

 

“That color really doesn’t suit you,” Sousuke mutters as they stroll through the doors into the neon lit building boasting an animated seizure-inducing LED screen flashing _K.O. Ka-pow!_ above its grand entrance. Subtlety, as always, was never Takumi’s M.O. The inside is just as bright. TV screens show the fights in the surrounding arenas, with music blaring from ceiling speakers. The bars are hip and _young_ and Sousuke knows Rei would fucking hate it. He wonders if he still works around here with all the change

“Shut up. You liked my emo phase in middle school.” Kisumi tucks a strand of synthetic black wig from his face and pushes his glasses up his nose. “Taki can stick his powder puff insult up his ass. At least I look different. You gave yourself… slightly shorter hair and blue contacts.”

“ _Like_ is a _strong_ word…” Sousuke mutters, eyes scanning the crowd. There. Old man with no regard for his space or personal belongings. “Need to get a hold of Hazuki.”

He lifts the man’s phone from his back pocket without much difficulty and returns to Kisumi’s side, who’s putting on an act of stupidity with a few fur-draped women. Good French accent too. He doesn’t really need to do this, Sousuke tells him every time they throw on wigs, but he likes to have fun with it anyway.

Always perceptive, Kisumi doesn’t need to be asked to excuse himself, and falls into step with Sousuke to make their way to the big lounge. Sousuke shoots a vague text to Nagisa he should recognize without help, happy that he’s always forced himself to memorize phone numbers.

_penguin, what’s the word?_

He gets a skull emoji in response and laughs.

 _big screens,_ he sends back as a clue. Sousuke gives him ten minutes to get his ass over here.

“Look,” Kisumi mumbles, nodding up to one of the large TVs showing a current fight in the main arena.

Sousuke lifts his gaze as a hulking _goliath_ of a man eats an uppercut delivered off of a strong and lean arm. The big guy stumbles back, and his assaulter doesn’t let him recover, following up with a jab he barely blocks in time with a large forearm.

His opponent is jerky and uncoordinated, Sousuke notices. When he steps, it isn’t sure footing and he’s half expecting the guy’s ankles to roll and send him to the ground. He forgets to protect his face here and there, and his jabs aren’t powered from his heels. The only reason he’s pushing the larger fighter into a corner is because he has the energy to. Big guy is about spent.

In short, he isn’t properly trained. And Sousuke’s going to go ahead and assume in that case...he isn’t one of those willfully hired fighters.

Big guy takes one more straight to the face and goes down. The crowd _boos_ the winner as he’s declared. His fist is raised high by the referee but his head droops to where Sousuke only sees a little bit of his sweat-soaked sandy hair peeking over his broad shoulders. When he’s turned around to receive heckling from the other side of the arena, Sousuke glances down at his watch to make sure it’s still ticking, because it feels an _awful_ lot like his heart just stopped and split in two.

He’s never seen anyone more miserable looking in his entire two lives. The problem not being that the fighter is afraid or angry or even crying pitifully over his situation, but that he just looks _gone_. The implication that he’s been doing this for so long that he’s able to check out right in the middle of it all is forcing Sousuke to a level of sympathy he doesn’t usually have the ability to access. It’s a fucking shame there’s no one home on a face like that too, because he’s-

“ _Gorgeous_ ,” Kisumi gasps after a low whistle. “I mean, _wow_. Even with the split lip and bruises and everything- do you see the green in those _eyes_?”

“Yeah,” Sousuke mumbles. He also sees the _goodness_ in them too underneath the faraway look, and outrunning his guilt for doing this might suddenly be easier said than done.

“Tachibana,” Nagisa identifies seamlessly, sliding onto a chair next to Kisumi. “A real up and comer.”

“Glad you found us,” Sousuke greets, snapping himself out of it.

Nagisa stares, not even a shred of his usual flirtatious flippancy to be found, clearly perplexed by Sousuke’s presence. Not even he could know this. “I have way too many questions for a drive by meeting.”

“That’s all right, the explanation is too long,” Kisumi responds.

“We’re here to win enough to run,” Sousuke cuts straight to the point. And run _fast_ , he adds in his head.

“Tachibana then,” Nagisa answers easily, all business. “He’s an underdog but he’s _killing_ it. The odds are crazy out of his favor, and he is _not_ a popular fighter.”

Of course it’s him. Sousuke looks back to the screen half expecting Tachibana’s pointed gaze of disgust directed right at him, but he’s gone. “I noticed.”

“Mostly because he looks _dead_ ,” Nagisa sighs. “Takumi is not happy with it. But he _wins_ , and is stirring up a lot of controversy for it over the last few days. Bad publicity is still publicity.”

“He’s only been here a few _days_?” Kisumi asks.

“I don’t _think_ so. There are more exclusive rings and basement rings other than this main floor that even I don’t have dirt on. But he’s going to be your best investment for right now. Low bet, high reward. _Everyone_ wants to see him fall today.”

“Christ,” Sousuke sighs. “I feel like shit about this now.”

“Boo hoo. Rip the bandage off and get it over with so you can get away from here,” Nagisa says. “You won’t save him by walking away from the bet because your conscience got to you.”

Sousuke wills down a hard flinch. He’s not accustomed to Nagisa speaking this way, and it hurts that he’s being so cold when he’s usually very caring. These last few months have turned everyone on their heads. “All right. Thanks for the info.”

“Sure.” Nagisa stands to leave. “I’ll let Rei know you’re okay. I still see him every few weeks or so.”

“He still tending?”

“No, he thought all this was _not beautiful_ ,” Nagisa finally laughs. “Too young for his old soul. It works out. He was way too straight laced for this business.”

“Good,” Kisumi agrees.

“Well I’ll see you guys around! Good luck; betting on hotties is _always_ the way to go.” He winks his double meaning into the end of his chirp, and weaves himself into the crowds.

Time to make the last illegal gamble Sousuke hopes he ever has to do, even if the sour taste of it never leaves his tongue.

* * *

 

They work their way to the arena and manage to get two seats close enough to catch detail of the fight. It’s _packed_ , though. The betting odds, if this works out, were worth every yen. Not only is Tachibana unpopular, whoever his next opponent is will apparently obliterate him, if the board was anything to go by. Sousuke and Kisumi aren’t familiar, of course, but they trust Nagisa. And if Tachibana wins, it means he doesn’t get pummeled along with the integrity of Sousuke’s conscience.

Tachibana is walked to the ring with a person in front of and behind him looking no more alive than when Sousuke saw him last. His boxing gloves are already secured- or maybe he never got a chance to take them off- but at least they changed him out of the blood-speckled shorts he was wearing. Sousuke feels even worse that he’s raking his eyes over the rest of his nearly flawless body with less than clinical intent. He really is _incredible_ looking, and Sousuke doesn’t want to look away.

He really deserves the hell he’s going to.

“Sou,” Kisumi calls uneasily. “What the _fuck_ is going on?”

Sousuke follows Kisumi’s gaze to the other side of the ring where Tachibana’s opponent has just ducked through the ropes to thunderous cheering. These sick fucks don’t even care about the money this match, Sousuke realizes. They just want to see Tachibana burn.

So it’s odd that six-foot Tachibana is about to be given the go ahead to beat the shit out of a five-foot _kid_.

The announcer introduces the fighters: six-foot tall, one-hundred seventy-five pound Tachibana versus five-foot two, one-hundred ten pound Inoue. The kid looks positively _terrified_. He can’t be older than sixteen. Tachibana by contrast hasn’t wavered in his non-expression at all. Maybe Sousuke was confusing _dangerous sociopath_ for _emotionally abandoned innocent_.

“I can’t watch this,” Kisumi whispers. “This was such a mistake.”

The classic bell _dings_ to signal the start of the fight-

Tachibana promptly sits down on the mat, and throws the round.

The arena erupts into jeering laughter as the bell _dings_ over again, and the ref gestures to the kid for the round win.

“Fuckin’ pansy,” a spectator barks to Sousuke’s right. “It’s goddamn hilarious!”

Round two starts, and Tachibana sits down again, making Inoue the match winner by default.

Kisumi catches and matches Sousuke’s incredulous surprise. “This was planned?” Kisumi asks uneasily.

“Looks like it?”

The guy leans in to their space, and Kisumi immediately elbows Sousuke before he can turn and break the asshole’s nose. “Guy won’t fight runts! It’s a fuckin’ trip.”

“Right,” Sousuke breathes out. Inhale, exhale, don’t put a man in the hospital. “So what now?”

“Now that the kid won, he’ll have to fight for _real_ ,” the guy sneers, “and that wuss won’t let him. He’ll champion for the kid and lose again, and two losses gets his ass knocked down a bracket and back into the basement where he _belongs_. Can’t fucking believe they keep letting him up here.”

Sousuke thinks the fact that literally every seat has an ass in it right now might have something to do with it.

“This is the _real_ fight the bets run for, you’ll see. Flower Child will need a _hospital_ after this one.” He pauses to chuckle and elbow Sousuke enthusiastically. “Man you’re in for some _entertainment_ if you ain’t seen this before.”

The announcer brings in the next opponent and declares a ten minute intermission, and right away Sousuke gets a vibe that this is not another kindhearted Tachibana or a dumb slow giant type from before. This is a guy who can and _will_ fight whether his opponent sits down or not, at least fifteen pounds above Tachibana’s weight class, and even from his seat so far away, Sousuke sees Tachibana go stiff as he takes the ref aside to presumably announce his intent to champion.

This is bullshit. His blood is boiling under his skin and he only realizes his fists are shaking when Kisumi stills him at the wrist. “Sou,” he warns lowly.

“I _can’t_ ,” Sousuke hisses.

“We can’t do anything, Sousuke.”

“I’m not watching this. I won’t do this.”

“We can’t draw suspicion to ourselves by storming out _now_. It’ll be out of place.”

“This isn’t what we came here for,” Sousuke argues.

Kisumi glares at him. “This is _exactly_ what we came here for, Sousuke. Did you think robots fought each other here? Did you think _no one_ got hurt?”

He grinds his teeth in response. “Well I’m stopping this. Stay put.”

“ _Sou,”_ Kisumi groans.

No, Kisumi is wrong about this. He can’t let it happen. It’s time to start a fire. Literally.

Sousuke quickly leaves the arena back into the throngs of people milling about the lounge. He hones in on a guy puffing on a cigarette, and makes an act of running into him as if he was too focused on one of the TVs to see where he was going.

“Oh fuck, sorry man, can’t miss a second of this shitshow, you know?”

The guy glares at him, smoothing down his blazer. “Yeah whatever. Get lost.”

“Totally, sorry again.”

Sousuke takes himself and his newly lifted lighter in a wide circle to shake anyone who might’ve seen him and stuffs a handful of napkins from one of the bars into his pocket to distract the man next to the dispenser. While his attention is diverted, Sousuke reaches around the other side of him and scoots his large beer stein nearer to his elbow. When the man faces forward again he knocks over his drink.

This grabs the bartender’s attention as there’s enough beer flooding the counter to piss off the other patrons and start mouthing off to each other and the guy who made a mess, which gives Sousuke approximately five seconds to round the side of the bar, dip into the area in a low crouch, and snatch a bottle of everclear off the bottom shelf and a rag from the folded stack on the other side. It’s fucking risky even for him, and his heart is pounding in his ears as he crouches out of the area again and stands to walk off with a bulging bottle under his jacket like nothing is out of place. Literally any single one of the hundreds of people could’ve seen him do it, if they weren’t all glued to the big TVs as Tachibana and Rocky with a fucking vendetta are brought back into the ring.

He’s running out of time.

As calmly as he can, he gets to a nearby bathroom, waits for a man to piss as he pretends to rinse his hand and pumps a few squirts of soap for added smoking factor into the everclear once they leave. He assembles his fire bomb in a latched stall, pushing the rag into the bottle to soak and pulling a corner out of the opening for a wick. He hides it again under his coat, so _painfully_ suspicious he could kick his own ass for being so reactionary about this had he the time to think about it, and makes his way back into the ring.

He needs to time this so he doesn’t get caught. As soon as a punch is winding, he needs to light it. As soon as the punch is thrown and the audience is hyper-focused, he needs to then throw it into a space where no one is immediately catching on fire and simultaneously position himself to gather up Kisumi _and_ find Tachibana-

-And _that’s_ a new development, he thinks grimly. Apparently he’s now also finding Tachibana. At least to show him an exit so he can _run._ He hopes Kisumi slaps him for this. It _truly_ is the opposite of not potentially throwing this second life away.

Tachibana is just going to have to take a punch for this to work.

He has a mind to at least get to the side Kisumi is on as the sounding bell _dings_ to start the match. Tachibana hops around defensively as his opponent zeroes in on him and swings at air a few times, causing the crowd to fall quickly restless. Sousuke keeps moving as if he’s finding his seat and keeps his eyes on the fight.

Tachibana blocks a hook, sidesteps a sweep, and manages a jab to Rocky’s temple. This does not make the animals happy. People start to stand and scream and honestly, Sousuke can’t _wait_ to start a raging fucking fire in this hellpit.

Three rows from Kisumi the opportunity opens up. Rocky lands a knee hard enough to make Tachibana stumble, lands on his front foot, and follows the motion through to a direct uppercut on course to Tachibana’s unguarded face. Sousuke lights the rag with the lighter, never stopping walking, and the hook connects if the uproar is anything to go by so he lets the bottle fly to the concrete space between the ring and the front row as fists pump the air and hats are tossed up.

No one has a clue, and the chaos is as instantaneous as the _fwoomp_ of the fireball rolling towards the polyester upholstery of the seats.

Sousuke then sprints to where he left Kisumi, who is standing stunned, and doesn’t stop to talk. He only grabs his arm and fights through the panicked crowd down to the ring where Rocky is bowing out of the ropes and Tachibana is being grabbed by two men and dragged down the hall out the back.

“Help me,” Sousuke commands to Kisumi without room for argument, releasing his arm to throw himself at the back of the man on the left, and Kisumi sails by him to take the man on the right. Tachibana trips forward from the surge of momentum, catching Sousuke’s eyes for the first time with nothing but shock on his face when he twists to face forward. Sousuke slams his target’s head into the wall to daze him, then steals his taser off his belt and lights him up. Kisumi’s choked his out.

Sousuke looks to Tachibana who’s been able to stand back up in the meantime. “Take this coat,” he says as he pulls one off of the unconscious man and throws it to Tachibana, something Kisumi’s already caught onto for himself. “Let’s go.”

“W-what’s going on?” he stutters, inching away warily but pulling his arms through the uniform.

It’s starting to get smokey even in the hallway, and the fire alarm started blaring at some point. But Tachibana is still too recognizable to try and escape with. Sousuke pushes the wig he’s been wearing off of his head and hands that over too.

“ _Sousuke_!”

“It’s fine, he’s the face of the day, not me.”

Tachibana takes it with a frown, and pulls it over his hair. Not even _close_ to convincing, especially not in his boxing shorts or his light gloves, but among a blind panic it will do before they start to inhale too much smoke.

They’re cautious to catch up with the main surge of people trying to get out of the building, but once they fold themselves into the crowd, calmly walking out of _K.O. Ka-pow!_ as the smoke starts to billow behind them is the easiest stunt Sousuke’s pulled off all day.

They quickly ditch the uniforms and disguises once they find a chance to stop and breathe between two dumpsters in the very back. Since everyone is surging out, it wasn’t much more than jumping from cover to cover to make it to the back of the property where the forest stands to the west and the cliff line drops to the ocean. Sousuke’s about to toss the phone he stole too when he catches that the screen has lit up.

_K.O. KA-BOOM!_  
_hehe_  
_good luck!_

He shows Kisumi with a smirk, who matches him with a death glare, and deletes the messages before popping the SIM card out and tossing it into one bin and the device into the other.

“What the _fuck_ was that?!” Kisumi fumes. “Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“Just a little bit of arson,” Sousuke answers with a shrug. “Keep your voice down.”

“Do you have _any_ idea the sort of _shit_ you just started?! When all we were trying to do is get out unnoticed?!”

“They won’t know it was us, Kis, come on.”

Kisumi points rudely at Tachibana, who’s sitting on the ground looking up at them silently and dabbing at the corner of his split lip with his thumb to stem the bleeding. “What is this?” Kisumi asks in disbelief. “We come to bet and walk away with _one of the fighters?!_ Taki’s _property-_ ”

“He’s not his goddamned property,” Sousuke growls.

“You know _exactly_ what I mean. I told you not to stir shit up, Sou! Do you think they won’t comb the security footage until the end of _time_ looking for who took him?!”

“I just sprung him,” Sousuke explains calmly, easing his hands in front of him disarmingly. “I just wanted to get him out of there. That’s it.”

A rip of velcro interrupts them, and Tachibana stands to toss his two gloves into the dumpster. “Which- though I have no earthly idea why you _did-_ I am very thankful for, and I hate to ask more of you,” he starts, “but I’m as good as captured again if you leave me here in these shorts.”

Sousuke and Kisumi pause their argument to look him over. Barefoot, bare chested, and in shimmery yellow boxing shorts. There are more bruises and scabbed over mat burns on him than Sousuke could count before they started to heal, and the way he crosses his arms and rolls his shoulders forward says he is acutely aware of how exposed it all is to their critical eye. He’s closed off in such a way that Sousuke gets the sense he must still think this is some sort of trick _,_ but it’s not like his options are many. He can’t be left to the wolves like this.

“ _No_ ,” Kisumi answers right away before Sousuke can cast him a questioning look. “He’s on his own now. You sprung him, he’s free.”

“He can take my coat-”

“No, Sousuke!”

“We’ll get him clothes and send him off! That’s it!”

“Goddammit, I‘m so _furious_ with you!”

“You would do it for me!” Sousuke shouts. “He needs _help_ , Kis. Just a little. A change of clothes. That is _it_. I promise.”

Kisumi looks between him and Tachibana, lingering his gaze on their fugitive. “Don’t take it the wrong way, Tachibana. You seem like a great guy, but we’re just as compromised as you are.”

“I understand,” he answers. “I’d be very grateful for enough on my back to cover it and I’ll be on my way.”

“Well Kis make a decision,” Sousuke says. “We can’t stand here forever.”

“Like you’re really giving me a choice,” he mutters, and walks straight away into the treeline without another word of it.

Sousuke sighs and shrugs out of his coat, handing it to Tachibana. “I’m sorry about this. It’s a long story.”

“It’s really okay.”

He extends his hand. “I’m Sousuke.”

Tachibana takes it tentatively after zipping up Sousuke’s coat; his grip isn’t very strong or confident. “Makoto.” His gaze falls away, suddenly shy and reserved. “... If you could call me that instead. I’m sort of sick of my last name right now and you certainly deserve my trust.”

Sousuke’s heart has really been put through the ringer lately, and Makoto isn’t helping. He doesn’t run into this brand of kindness and sincerity often, or a face he’d kiss without a second thought if given the opportunity. This wild card only forces his shallow revenge quest even further to the back of his mind. Makoto surviving what he has under a thumb like Takumi’s and still having spirit and trust to spare for a stranger makes Sousuke’s brand of anger seem so _insignificant_.

“Happy to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://iskabee.tumblr.com)


	3. Boy, you gotta love someone more than yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sousuke finds out Makoto might be interested after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're asking yourself how the fuck the next two chapters fit even by a loose definition into the original movie events the answer is that they don't and it was just not feasible to translate a singing flamboyant crocodile and a young girl who can talk to animals into Real Serious People Things so i just REWROTE ALL THE MIDDLE OF IT because it's my fic and i can do what i want.

Sousuke nearly breaks the awkward silence with a joke until Makoto so graciously does it for him.

“I’m sorry I lost you all the money you had,” he apologizes. Genuinely. _Apologizes_. For refusing to hurt someone who wasn’t threatening him. It’s almost worth a laugh.

He’s showered and dressed in a t-shirt and jeans of Sousuke’s, looking much better, but too tired to do anything other than sit in the wire-wrought chair. He wouldn’t let Kisumi or Sousuke help look him over for injury, but a spot on his jaw is visibly swollen from the final hit he took and his bottom lip cracks if he opens his mouth too wide. He doesn’t limp or seem to have issues breathing though.

“We didn’t want to see you clobber a kid anyway,” Kisumi sighs, setting tea down for everyone.

Sousuke’s leaning on the wall for lack of a place to sit once Kisumi takes his chair. “Where you off to from here?”

“Across the city,” Makoto answers. “My family hasn’t seen me in six months. They probably think I’m dead, so I’d like to uh, clear that up.”

“Not to pry, but how did you end up here?” Sousuke asks.

“Just like anyone might,” Makoto says matter-of-factly. “We were struggling. My father is sick and can’t work. I heard Takumi could help us, and I went to him knowing I wouldn’t be able to pay him back with money. I signed a contract for one month of ring fighting for one month of our medical bills to give us some breathing room.”

“I take it that didn’t work out.”

“Not how I’d hoped it would, no. I assumed I’d be cheated somehow; I’m not stupid. But not for six months. I’m not sure how long he was planning on keeping me, actually, but he certainly wasn’t interested in letting me leave.”

“You made him money by being the fighter to hate,” Kisumi explains. “That way the crowd could rally against you and throw a lot of cash down to see you hurt. Creates a culture, a false camaraderie.”

“Oh…” Makoto trails. “I see.”

Sousuke thinks of something horrific. “Does he know where your family lives?”

“ _No_ , or I’d still be fighting right now,” Makoto says sternly. “I’ve been writing letters home to a fake address, and I made him give me money in person in lieu of setting up any sort of bank account. When I could still leave the compound, I never went home or contacted them in any way. I’d _never_ risk them like that.”

_Of course_ he’s smart too. Attractive inside and out, strong, and _compassionate_. If Kisumi doesn’t slap Sousuke soon, Sousuke’s going to have to do it to himself. The guy about to walk out of his life is not the guy to start crushing on.

“Um, so when I get back home, if there’s any way I can repay you… I’d really like to.”

Kisumi snorts. “With peanuts, maybe. You’re just as poor as we are.”

“Kisumi,” Sousuke scolds. “No, Makoto. We’ll be skipping town as soon as we’re able to, and plan on staying out of reach.”

“But you’re involved with Takumi somehow, I gather? How will you find work without being discovered?”

“We’re crafty,” Kisumi answers. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I wouldn’t want you killed,” Makoto worries. “If I can help I really want to.”

Sousuke _nearly_ says _been there done that,_ but his story probably isn’t one to share with the world. It was hard enough to get Kisumi to believe him. He’s not sure if Kisumi even _does_ , but he at least accepts that Sousuke’s back. He idly rubs at his wristwatch as he thinks of it.

“You need to get back to your family,” Kisumi says. “Don’t worry about us.”

Makoto shakes his head. “I owe you.”

“You don’t,” Sousuke protests. “Don’t be stubborn. Go _home_ , Makoto.”

Makoto huffs irritably, pinches the inside corners of his eyes, and struggles with something he tries to hide. “You’re going to take this the wrong way…” he mutters. “But there’s a reward being offered by the police for me. I saw a poster once.”

“Oh _Christ_ ,” Kisumi groans.

“It’s not a ploy to get you to take me home! But it’s the only thing I can think of to repay you and you need the money.”

“We can’t just drop you off at the police station and walk out with a bag of cash.”

“Why not?” Makoto presses. “You’re entitled to it. And you don’t just have information on me, you have _me_.”

“We’re _slightly_ in trouble with the police,” Sousuke says. “I’m relatively certain our photos are hanging up in every precinct lobby in the city.”

“But the truth is that you _did_ get me out of there! It’s not a lie. Regardless of what you’ve done in the past. No one would ever come forward on anything if the police took the past into account. You’ll give a statement and I’ll give a statement and they’ll cash you out. We can make sure our stories match on the way.”

“Drop it,” Sousuke clips. “I promised Kisumi that our involvement ends here.”

He sure hopes he looks collected and calm on the outside after saying that, as inside he’s banging his head against a metaphorical wall for being so cold to someone he’s so interested in, and who’s only trying to be helpful. But he really can’t break his promise here, no matter how badly he doesn’t want this to be goodbye. Kisumi doesn’t deserve it.

That doesn’t mean Kisumi can’t change his mind.

Makoto takes a deep breath to insist again, and something makes him think better of it. “Okay.”

Kisumi’s glaring at the ground. “Clothes are all we promised you.”

“Right,” he mutters. “So I’ll be leaving.”

“ _But_ as much as I’d like to watch Sou start street performing for coins, we don’t have that kind of freedom here anymore. So we’ll do it. For the money.”

Sousuke raises an eyebrow. “Are you even going to ask me?”

“Do I _really_ need to?” Kisumi asks with an eyeroll. He stands and leaves his cooling tea at the table untouched. “It’s been a long twenty four hours. I’m going to bed. Sleep where you want to Tachibana, just not with me.”

“Um, sure,” Makoto trails after him quietly as he walks away. “Makoto is… fine…” He sighs. “He’s not listening is he?”

“I really pissed him off today,” Sousuke states and realizes at the same time. “Ah, hell.”

“... I feel like I should apologize. I’ve been in the way.”

Sousuke holds up a hand. “Kis could make God itself feel like an inconvenience if he’s grumpy enough. But it’s not about you. He likes you fine.” He looks into the small living space; there isn’t anywhere nice to sleep. Only floor other than the two seats and small table. “I need to go talk to him, so go ahead and get settled on your own. There’s a futon in the other room- my room.”

“Oh. I think I’ll be okay in the living room, it’s no problem.”

Sousuke rolls his eyes. “There’s no room for chivalry in our lives, Makoto, so take the damn bed.”

“It’s not that, I just wouldn’t want to be in Kisumi’s way anymore, and I might take it the wrong way if I were in his position.”

“And what way and position is that?” Sousuke laughs, folding his arms across his chest and making Makoto frown uncomfortably. Kisumi absolutely hates it, but this conversation is always sort of fun and cathartic for him, he has to admit. People _squirm_.

“Don’t tease me,” he mutters, surprising Sousuke when he doesn’t flail and backtrack. “If you’re not with him you can just say so.”

“I could. But I sort of like this puritanical Lucy and Ricky idea you have of us. Keep going. Think we fuck through a hole in a bedsheet or nah?”

“Huh? Lucy and _who_? Couples don’t have to literally _sleep_ together in the same room,” Makoto bristles. “I was just trying to be courteous in case that was your preference.”

“All right, easy,” Sousuke consoles. “I’m just fucking with you. No, he’s doomed to the platonic fate of a brother.”

“Oh,” Makoto says. “Adopted?”

“Not anything _that_ fancy. Grew up in the same slum and had each other’s backs. Better than the deadbeats that brought us into the world had ‘em, anyway.”

“I see. He’s very lucky then,” Makoto remarks.

Sousuke cocks his head, not one to miss the fond smile barely tugging at Makoto’s mouth. The first one he’s seen and it has his stomach in gnarled knots. Not that Rin would, but heaven in general help him not say something stupid while his thoughts are so preoccupied with how great it is. “I am single though, if you’re interested.”

Like that.

Something about the way Makoto chews on his cheek and visibly agonizes over whether or not to laugh is hopelessly adorable and soul-crushingly infuriating at the same time. “I’m fucking leaving,” he grumbles.

He decides on laughter after Sousuke’s shuffling away too quickly to be considered nonchalant. If he weren’t so embarrassed, he’d appreciate getting to hear it for the first time so soon after a smile, too.

“I hope you split your lip again!” he calls on a hissed whisper as he draws nearer to Kisumi’s door, making Makoto laugh louder and then quietly whisper _oh, ow, ow_.

Good. Goddammit.

He takes a long breath through his nose to break up his embarrassment and softly knocks. Kisumi only grunts on the other side and Sousuke takes it as permission to enter. He finds his friend already under a blanket and still to sleep, not staying up to read something like he usually does. Sousuke sits on the edge of his futon cross-legged.

Kisumi doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tear into him or threaten to kick his ass as he does when he’s just annoyed. His silence is so much worse, and Sousuke can count on one hand the number of times he’s been this angry at him and every time hurts worse than a kick in the nuts.

He clears his throat, considers placing a comforting hand on his leg and thinks better of it. “Hey so, officially, I messed up. I made a scene when it was the only thing you asked me not to do. And forced you to be responsible for another life. It was a shitty thing to do. I’m sorry.”

Sousuke’s about to ask why Kisumi let him in if he wasn’t planning on saying anything, but then he curls in more and speaks quietly. “I had to watch those monsters drag your body to the edge of that pier after making jokes about how they were going to kill you. They _laughed_. You know you woke up for a second when he _kicked_ you over?”

“Kis-”

“You cried out and I was right there. There was nothing I could do. I was too afraid- too _cowardly_ to do _anything_. I guess you could say I’m not over it, even though you’re back. It fucked me up, Sou. I wish I could keep trying to act like it didn’t for your sake. But you put yourself at risk not even a full day after you showed up here. After we agreed not to. And it’s not because I’m angry that you went and did it. It’s that I’m fucking terrified of going through all that again. I am _so_ alone without you and I’ll blame myself until the end of _time_ no matter what you say. I’m not okay.”

“What can I do?” Sousuke asks helplessly.

“Nothing,” Kisumi sighs. “You can’t do anything.”

“You can’t tear yourself apart for this, Kis. It _wasn’t your fault_.”

Kisumi sighs. “Just remember that… you said it went by in a flash for you, but it was four _months_ for me. Just keep it in mind next time you want to do something stupid. That’s all.”

Sousuke gives in and lays his hand over Kisumi’s ankle anway, heart heavy. “All right. I will. If you don’t want to go after this reward, you know we don’t have to. There are always other ways.”

“Yeah I know. I want to. He’s a good person. Even if there wasn’t money you already know I would’ve done it.”

He squeezes Kisumi’s ankle before returning his hand to himself. “I think I sort of like him already.”

“ _No_ ,” Kisumi gasps sarcastically, rolling over and staring in mock-shock. “You don’t say. You know we have to like, _leave_ him though, right? He’s not a stray we can take with us.”

“Yeah. I know. Just wanted to tell you so you can tell me to knock it off.”

“Why? Take these opportunities when you can. Even- no, _especially_ \- if they’re not forever. Or in our case, maybe only for a day. You might not ever meet someone like that again.” He rolls back over, back to Sousuke. “God knows I’ve spent enough time beating myself up over you lately.”

“Well you don’t have to anymore.”

“Tell me that again when we’re out of this hellhole in one piece.”

Sousuke nods to himself. “I will.”

Kisumi lazily waves a hand behind him. “Go away. I’m tired.”

He smiles as he lets himself out.

* * *

 

It’s only barely dawn when Sousuke wakes up on the floor of his bedroom to the sound of his door closing. It still took him nearly a half hour to force Makoto to take the goddamned futon and now he won’t even stay in it all night. Arguing was _not_ the sort of heart to heart he was hoping for once he finally got Makoto alone in his room. He groans and rolls over, intending to forget it and fall back asleep.

Of course he doesn’t come back into the room, ruling out a trip to the bathroom. Maybe he’s trying to make food, and Sousuke should probably break it to him that the rice they pulled together the day before is all there was. He stares up at the ceiling and asks himself for the first time how he ended up back at square one like this.

Worst of all Kisumi, who’s been living in squalor for months. How they grew up is never how either of them wanted to live again. They’ve always been good at taking kicks while they’re down, but it’s disheartening to eat plain rice for a meal. Even during times of uncertainty, it never got _that_ bad again.

All they ever wanted was enough to get by with, and then Sousuke had to go and get greedy and ruin it all. That Kisumi even still looks him in the eye is a miracle.

Sousuke sits up and sighs, having worked himself awake with shitty thoughts, and leaves to tell Makoto he’ll have to wait for food. He finds him at the window facing out with one of the chairs pulled over, and not in the kitchen. Maybe he’s just that much of an early riser.

In which case they could _never_ work out.

Sousuke shakes his head of his uncharacteristic interest in Makoto simply being awake, but doesn’t get to leave unnoticed.

“Sorry if I woke you.”

“Well if you hadn’t forced me to take the floor,” he jokes. “No matter how much I begged. Heartless.”

Makoto shrugs without turning around. “Builds character.”

How much of that is him playing along and how much of that is speaking from experience, Sousuke wonders. Maybe Sousuke just isn’t as strong, but if he’d been forced to fight and get his ass beat for half a year under who knows what kinds of conditions, he certainly wouldn’t be holding up as well as Makoto seems to be. Not well enough to joke.

“Can I pull up a chair?”

“I was hoping you’d want to. There’s tea on the counter.”

Sure enough there’s a second mug, cooled enough to hold but still warm in his hands. It’s chilly in the apartment for how deep into winter it is. Nearer the window is even colder, but Makoto seems unfazed by it.

It’s not snowing or anything and the view isn’t any good. The window faces north so it’s still nearly pitch black outside, only a light over the alleyway across the street cutting dimly through the early morning haze. Halfway through the tea, Sousuke’s still freezing his ass off, and he can’t claim to see the appeal of this or why it makes Makoto so visibly at ease.

“I wish I could just be grateful and drop it already but… _why_ , Sousuke? Why me? And not that kid. Or _anyone_ else.”

Makoto isn’t paying attention to his physical presence, and Sousuke feels safe to look him over without reproach. He’s clothed, but he can’t hide everything, and Sousuke can mentally map the the different bruises he saw the day prior under Makoto’s shirt. The largest of which probably looks worse than it is, he hopes. On his side below his ribs, faded to that greenish-brown color of decay. Sets of foreign fingertips mar his arms where he’s been grabbed, and now that Sousuke’s sitting close to him, there’s the faintest tell of a nearly-gone black eye still lingering near the corner of the socket.

There’s no perfectly neutral answer to his question, but there is an answer from this perspective.

“That kid will be okay. No one was interested in him. _You_ , though… you would’ve died there. Eventually. Eventually someone would’ve hit you just right, or that fucking pack of animals in the stands would’ve done it.”

“... Oh,” he acknowledges faintly.

“And _me_ … I went there to make a buck off that. I didn’t bet on a fight. I bet lunch money on your life. Like the piece of shit I’ve always been. I just didn’t realize until that moment that I’m not any better than Takumi, and I couldn’t let it stand. I was in business with that asshole until he started pulling this shit. I thought I was above it, then immediately turned around and proved how I wasn’t. So no, don’t be thankful. If you want to get one more hit in before you retire, take it out on me.”

Maybe he just blew any sort of chance he had to get closer to Makoto, but the more he speaks the truer it is. He could’ve claimed forever that at least he never hurt anyone if he’d just stopped and thought a little longer for another way out, but the second he walked into that establishment with the intent to walk out of it with money, that claim became a lie. In a world of deception and stealing, being honest with himself is something he’s always tried to be. Even at his own expense.

“I… don’t want to hit _anyone_. I never did. I thought I could just lose every fight for a month and walk away. Maybe with a limp. But I was a coward and I learned quickly that doing that wasn’t conducive to seeing my family again.”

“You didn’t have a choice, Makoto.”

“I had many choices,” Makoto says pointedly. “I don’t pretend like I was forced into doing it. I was only forced into staying. It was the most _readily_ available option to me at the time. And _you_ -”

Sousuke flinches and hides behind a sip of his tea.

“You set that place on _fire_ and risked yourself for _me_. Do you have any idea how much I’ve dreamt of seeing it burn? You made a mistake but you set it straight. I get the impression you’ve probably made a lot of mistakes.”

“ _Hey_ ,” he frowns.

Makoto shrugs. “So have I. I don’t think that makes us irredeemable. What you did means so much to me… I just wanted to know why you bothered with a no one like me. Nothing I can ever do will repay you enough. You _saw_ me in there. I can’t deny that I started to wonder if I was invisible.”

His hands are hurt too, Sousuke notices when Makoto drinks from his mug. Knuckles scabbed and chapped over where the cheap fingerless gloves rubbed him raw. And his lip splits again when he smiles, but it’s still nice that he does.

Sousuke would like to hold his hands and kiss his lips regardless before all of this is over, as it’s hard to see features so intimate and delicate hurting Makoto as they are. Hands should be squeezed and lock together in embraces without aching, lips should smile and kiss without splitting.

“You’re anything but an invisible no one,” Sousuke grumbles. “You should hit me anyway for leering at you.”

“ _Shameless_ ,” Makoto accuses on a laugh, blushing red at his ears.

“Eh, I already fucked up playing it cool last night. No use in trying to hide it now. I saw you _immediately_.”

Makoto finally looks over at him, gaze playful. “Considering the disaster I look like right now, I’m flattered. I won’t hit you.”

“There will be other opportunities to if you change your mind,” he yawns. “Promise. I’m going back to bed, you psycho.”

Makoto hums and sets his mug on the windowsill. “Then sorry in advanced.”

“For?”

He stands from the chair only enough to lean over Sousuke and kiss him gently and barely; once, twice, and Sousuke manages to get a hold of his neck to sneak a third a bit firmer than the other two before Makoto falls back onto his chair with a wide smile, leaving Sousuke red for a myriad of reasons. “For my busted lip. Thank you, Sousuke. Sleep well.”

“O-okay. Yeah. Uh, thanks for the tea. We… we’ll get you home.”

Makoto nods and mercifully turns back to the window, letting Sousuke escape without any scars of mockery. It’s going to be a long fucking day that- best case scenario- ends in everyone’s freedom and good health. And he isn’t looking forward to it at all.

* * *

 

“I need a phone,” Makoto declares once Sousuke is awake again and spruced up, with Kisumi long since lounging nearby. “I’ll have a friend pick us up.”

“Why not call your parents?” Kisumi asks.

Makoto shakes his head. “I told you I won’t put them at risk in any way. I don’t doubt people are looking for me. It’s hard enough to put my friend at risk like this, but walking across the city hardly seems feasible either.”

“Take him to a convenience store, Sou. I’ll wait.”

“You should come. I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I need to plant some evidence for a place we _won’t_ be going to to throw our inevitable tail and get our things together,” Kisumi explains. “They _will_ find you on that security footage, and we only whisked Makoto away in _shimmery yellow shorts_ after all. Running down a few blocks to make a phone call should be enough time to get it done. Saves us effort.”

He walks over to the trashbin and turns up the top, where he’s taped a few yen bills discreetly. “This is _all_ I have- _officially_. Get us some food while you’re out if this can even cover any. Taki’s muscle likes to lift my money too when they check in on me,” he says bitterly. “Had to get creative-”

All three of their heads snap to the door when a heavy fist thumps twice.

“Window,” Kisumi whispers. “My room. Go.”

“Come _with_ us.”

“I _can’t;_ this will keep them occupied while you get distance. If I’m not here they’ll start canvassing.”

Sousuke hesitates. He doesn’t want to leave him again.

“Go _now_ I will be _fine_. Jesus Sou, have some faith in me.”

He sighs and nods, and runs to step hard into his shoes, takes another pair for Makoto from his room, and shoves them in Makoto’s hands. “Check point?” Sousuke utters vaguely, too forward thinking to aid it with explanation.

“Okay,” Kisumi agrees. “I’ll find you.”

He nods, and that’s all the parting they have time for. As Sousuke’s opening the window Kisumi answers the front door, and Sousuke nearly shoves Makoto onto the barely-there fire escape and tumbles out after him.

“The window,” Makoto points out.

“ _Shit_ ,” Sousuke spits. “All right, boost.”

Makoto crouches and Sousuke steps into his folded hands to leap up and drag the window shut quickly, stopping just as it’s about to slam to latch it into place slowly before dropping down with a loud clang of metal. “Well fuck. Time to run,” Sousuke commands.

“But-”

“Nope, don’t.” Sousuke shoves past him and hurries down the rickety stairs, and soon after the additional rumble from Makoto trails after him. They jump down the small gap at the end of the installation into the alleyway, Makoto hopping after him to pull the shoes over his heels. It gives Sousuke a sizeable gap over the other, and just as he’s about to slow down to let Makoto catch up, he rounds the corner out of the alleyway into a straight arm that startles him backwards.

“Ah ah ah,” a man chides that Sousuke can’t get a good look at before he’s swept off his feet and landing flat on his back. “Basic rules of a smokeout is we watch the fire escape, Yamazaki.”

Makoto leaps over him in an instant, startling a shout from Sousuke’s assaulter and shoving him away. Sousuke rolls to his feet as the man brandishes a knife and takes a swing at Makoto. Sousuke can’t use a knife well but he can disarm someone of one, and pushes Makoto out of the way hard enough to trip him so he stays low without time to explain. He catches the man’s wrist on his next downswing and follows through to twist his arm hard. The man grunts and drops it involuntarily, letting Sousuke sweep it up and hop back with it out in front of himself defensively.

Makoto is back on his feet as the man turns his attention on him, and Sousuke is confused by the switch in targets long enough to not sense the other person approaching him from behind until there’s already an arm around his neck. He swats behind himself with the knife to try and get away, but his wrist is grabbed and his arm goes tight when the assailant yanks backwards and up. The man lets go of his neck in favor of twisting to get in front of Sousuke, wrist still in a vice grip, and pushes him by his head to hit the brick wall to the side.

Which would be manageable to squirm out of if he didn’t then decide to disarm Sousuke of the knife by slamming his wrist into the wall too, with the face of his wristwatch facing outwards to absorb most of the impact. He feels the face crack, and it’s followed by a hard dead stop of his heart that makes him lightheaded.

He’s dropped the knife and fallen to his knees independent of any further action on his opponent’s part, and it turns out it hurts a fuckton _everywhere_ when a heart isn’t beating correctly and everything else becomes background noise as his vision tunnels and blurs. But he can’t leave Makoto versus two of these dogs.

He’s able to stand only because he’s pulled to it by his shirt, and all he can think to do is headbutt the guy in the nose. Surprisingly effective. He has him down another moment later with a hard hook to his temple that nearly makes him collapse himself with the effort, and his opponent is out to the world for a bit with a hard, trained pinch to the arteries in his neck.

He looks at his busted watch in fear before he can mentally catch up and help Makoto, and barely registers it ticking in place again before he blacks out.

At some point he’s rolled onto his back and he’s coming to somewhat to his own name being whispered in a near-panic. Makoto’s patting his cheeks, his eyes looking up and behind them every few seconds and breathing in spent wheezes. There’s the guy he dropped, and the other guy down the way in a heap Makoto must’ve overpowered. “Sousuke! _Sousuke_!”

“Fuck.”

“Oh thank god,” Makoto breathes. “What’s wrong?!”

Sousuke looks at his watch again. The face is cracked in three places, but the second hand is on the move again.

Then it sputters, and so does he. “ _Fuck_ ,” he says again. “We need to get out of here before these guys come to.”

Makoto nods stiffly and helps him stand, which makes him stumble. He’s weak on his feat, blood not circulating effectively under the stress of palpitations. “Fucking _fantastic_.”

“What is it?” Makoto asks anxiously

“ _Later_. Help me. I’m going to trip a lot.”

Makoto nods and takes a hold of his arm. “Okay. Where to?”

“That convenience store. We still have errands to run. It’s two blocks this direction.”

He begins walking slowly, and Sousuke pulls at him to make him speed up. “No time.”

“But-”

“ _Makoto_ ,” he heaves. “ _Please_. Drag my ass if I pass out but just keep _moving_.”

He does, basically. Sousuke can only put effort into making sure he breathes. He points Makoto through more alleyways so they stay obscured though it’s a roundabout way of getting to their destination, garnering the curious glances of the washups in the area. People hobbling around these streets isn’t a _rare_ sight, per se, so no one goes after them.

Just outside the store, Sousuke uncouples from Makoto so he can walk in alone and not raise any more suspicion. Sousuke leans on the wall for support. “Go make you call.”

“But _Kisumi_ ,” Makoto is finally able to get out without Sousuke interrupting him.

Sousuke shakes his head. “Tell your friend we’ll be-” He pauses and calms himself until the watch catches up with him again. “Under the bridge on Yagami street.”

“... Okay.”

“Makoto.”

“Yes?”

“Get uh, sandwiches. With the money. And Kis likes chips if there’s enough.”

“Sure.” Makoto wavers at the door long enough to be in someone else’s way, and steps to the side to let them by. “Um, will you be okay out here?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna be fine. I just need to stay resting. Few minutes.”

Makoto gives him one more unsure look and turns to head into the store. Sousuke slumps and glares at the sky. _Don’t you even fucking think about it,_ he thinks as loudly as he can in case his crimsonly paired judge and jury are listening. _I swear to fuck I’ll find another way back if you do._

As if they’re fucking with him, the watch skips on cue for a particularly long dead beat that has him gripping at his chest as it tightens. He’s afraid to even tap the watch as he has been. A piece of the glass is barely hanging on, and who knows if that’s connected to his livelihood somehow too.

He lets himself fall in and out of it to bar any additional stress that probably won’t help him out right now. That includes insisting Kisumi weaseled his way out and is going to find him. What is he supposed to do about this, though? He can’t make it forever with a barely functional watch. Good luck taking it to a shop and having anyone in there take it on for free, even worse if they did and couldn’t help him since he can’t let the mechanism stop long enough for it to be worked on.

Makoto emerges with a small grocery bag looking distraught, but pushes it off his face right away. “He’ll meet us. He’s far, though.”

“Of course,” Sousuke sighs. “Well the bridge is a few kilometers away, so we have ground to cover.”

“Need my arm?” he asks, raising his elbow.

“I think I caught my breath,” Sousuke answers. “Let’s not attract attention. But don’t take off in a sprint either.”

“You set the pace.”

They make it a block before he mutters irritably to himself and leans on Makoto again. He’s so _weak_. It’s totally indescribable even in his own mind. If a cell phone had sentience, this is probably what it experiences when the battery drains to red quickly. Or maybe this is how the failure-to-thrive elderly feel on their fucking deathbeds.

Makoto sets him down, lets him rest, picks him up, and walks again without complaint or question. Another curveball he’s going to have to deal with if he makes it out of this, probably. Makoto will want to know. Has a _right_ to know, now.

Kisumi isn’t waiting for them at the bridge, and it’s not like they’ve arrived in a timely manner. No amount of deep breathing in the world can keep him calm and level with that knowledge. Makoto lets him down to sit and lean back on the curve of the underside of the small bridge and mirrors him so they’re facing each other.

“If he’s not here when your friend shows up, you’ll still go, okay?”

Makoto shakes his head. “No.”

“ _Yes_ , goddammit.”

“No.” Makoto folds his arms across his chest. “And I’ll clearly get away if you try and force me into the car.”

Sousuke sighs. “Stubborn fuck.”

“Rest. I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

He glares at him half-heartedly, but Makoto’s worry is choking up his features by this point and it’s hard to be annoyed with him. “Hey, Makoto, it’s all right. Don’t give me that look.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, but please be okay,” he pleads.

“I will be. I’m not ready.” He closes his eyes to do as he’s told, and smiles into a hesitant kiss he wasn’t expecting. “All right, _now_ I am.”

“Sousuke.”

“Kidding, kidding.”

He wants to open his eyes and see the smile on Makoto’s face he can undoubtedly feel warming his skin, and when he does Gou is peering back at him from the same cross-legged position with a pout and her chin on her hand.


	4. I can feel the fire of the city lights burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sousuke prepares to say goodbye.

“Didn’t you hear me,” Sousuke says calmly. “I’m not ready.”

Gou sighs. “And you’re not quite _dead_ , but I wanted to be nearby.”

“Vulture.”

She glowers at him, and for the first time actually looks like the agent of hell she claims to be. A growl she doesn’t _visibly_ make curls around him and dances a bladed edge he can’t see across his throat, and an otherworldly pressure falls down on his shoulders. “It’s time for you to listen to me, you _jerk_. I’m only here so someone else doesn’t get you. We’re not all so _kind_ and you’re insolence has turned the heads of, well, not the nicest of the bunch. The ones assigned to the _helplessly damned._ ”

“So now you’re _protecting_ me? That’s a laugh.”

“I am!” she shouts, sitting straight. “I don’t want to see you suffer! And before you shoot off some cocky line about Rin wanting to, he’s the one who convinced me to see you right now. I didn’t think you deserved any explanation.”

Sousuke looks from side to side and then down at his lap. They’re still under the bridge, but no one’s around. No cars or people or birds in the sky. “What do you want from me? _Gratitude_? I’m already yours when I die so just be patient.”

“The longer you stick around on earth, the more difficult it’s going to be for me to keep you when you come back to us,” she warns. “I am not as strong as the wicked who live deeper and _want_ to see a defiant soul burn. My hell might not be five-star comfort but _theirs_ … forever is a long time, Sousuke.”

He laughs dryly. “What, you want me to kill myself or something to speed it up? Think about what you’re saying. I’m _this_ close to escaping my own _personal_ hell and you’re threatening to drag me into yours.”

“I brought you here to ask you to let go _now_. Before I can’t help you anymore. You’re barely hanging on as it is. I can take you right now if you let me.”

“I won’t,” Sousuke says with a simple shrug. “Sorry. Not until Kis and Makoto are safe at least. I’m not going anywhere.”

A chill rocks down his spine that he knows somehow isn’t from Gou, and the sky darkens over his head. When he looks down, the ground is parched, cracked, and grey, and shadowy figures skitter and slither across the surface that have no beginning or end. They twist into each other and separate, dissipate and come back together, ooze out of the cracks and lurch for him but never touch him. Sousuke looks back up at Gou with nerves on edge and can’t keep down his dry swallow.

“This is _part_ of what I’m fighting back for you. Give me your hand.”

Sousuke leans forward nearly against his will and turns his palm out, maybe more morbidly curious than anything. Gou lays hers over his, and he shouts in pain and alarm as he yanks it back. _Searing;_ as if he picked up a handful of red coals and held on tight. He expects his skin to be charred and mutilated, but nothing’s outwardly injured. Only echoes of the burn pulse away until it’s gone.

“That’s what it is,” she continues. “But everywhere. Please let me help, Sousuke. If you walk away from me now, I can’t promise you my protection from this going forward.”

He didn’t get to say goodbye to Kisumi- _again_. He barely even got to say hello to Makoto. And they’re not _safe_. He _needs_ to be able to tell Kisumi he doesn’t have to worry anymore. Kisumi has no one else and he _needs_ to be there. He _wants_ to see Makoto without his bruises, and hear all of his different laughs. He would readily burn for them, for any of that.

“You’re wasting your time,” he says with frail finality.

She nods once and stands to brush off her dress. “I won’t disagree. I’ll fight anyway. And maybe I can still reach you when the time comes.”

“Why bother?”

She looks up at the blackening sky and rubs her upper arms to combat the same chill Sousuke’s grappling with. “You’re not the only one around putting up a reckless fight against bullshit. We just work with what we’re given to make a difference. Even if it’s small.”

When she looks back at him, she’s only _half_ the annoying pest she started out as in Sousuke’s eyes. In fact, she’s _old_. And not in a depreciative way. She knows what she’s saying, knows what she’s doing, and she looks at him like he’s a child still learning to walk. “I am what I am _because_ I want to protect others, you know. Who will protect the damned if not me?”

Then certainly, despite all the snark and their wishes to help him, they understand on some level what he’s done. “Tell Rin I said thanks even though I’m telling you both to get bent again.”

“He said you’d cave and say that. He also said in that case- and I quote: fuck you too, and you’re an idiot for doing this.”

Sousuke snorts, and wouldn’t have expected anything less. “Maybe.”

“Hold your breath. You’re about to die for thirty-two seconds, and I’m going to pretend not to notice.”

“Huh?”

“There _is_ a debate on what _dead_ is,” she reminds him, and smiles sadly as she waves him farewell.

* * *

 

It’s nice to come back to life again with air readily available this time. He doesn’t awaken to sputtering or large gasps, only opens his eyes and parts his lips to passively fill his lungs. He’s in a _bed_ ; a real, elevated bed, and he doesn’t feel like he’s one foot in the grave anymore.

A cry from outside of his field of vision rings out, and someone flops over his chest racked with elated _laughter_. His eyes focus in on the blur around him, and Kisumi’s sitting off to the side of a room rolling his eyes and hunched over his knees as if he’s been sitting there for awhile.

_He’s okay._

But that means the person nearly strangling him is

“Makoto.”

“It _worked_!”

“I _told_ you I could do it.”

Sousuke doesn’t recognize the deeper voice or see its owner over Makoto’s wide shoulders, and doesn’t really give a shit for a few seconds about it at all when Makoto sits up and bumps their foreheads together.

That was a new a laugh, Sousuke thinks. Already, his decision was worth it. He brings his hands up with the intent to touch his _lovely_ brightened face and tell him that, forgetting there’s an audience- then notices his wrist is bare.

He goes rigid and Makoto pulls away nervously at the change in energy to give him space and fumbles over an apology. “My _watch_ -”

“Chill out,” Kisumi sighs. “Haru fixed it.”

Then he sees him now that Makoto is out of the way, sitting at a desk and dangling it out in front of him for Sousuke to see. He’s pissy looking with a pretty face and an icy gaze, but Sousuke doesn’t get the impression he’s a dick or anything. Maybe just reserved.

“Works. Fixed a warped gear in the back and went out and got it a new face. Only had to stop it for half a minute to flatten a bent tooth straight. You _probably_ don’t have brain damage, but I’ll reserve judgement on that.”

“Uh, thanks.” He pushes up by his arms to sit up.

“This is Haru,” Makoto introduces. “The friend I called.”

Sousuke stares at him in disbelief. “... A convenient watchmaker.”

“No, but I know how to use the internet, and I have steady hands.” Haru stands and walks over to him to return his lifeline. When he reaches for it, Haru holds it higher out of reach and narrows his eyes at him.

Okay, maybe he’s a dick.

“Makoto _always_ falls for jackasses, and I’m never around to properly introduce myself to them like this.”

“ _Haru!”_ Makoto groans.

“So remember who fixed your watch.”

“Ooo, _scary_ ,” Sousuke deadpans as Kisumi snorts off to the side in amusement. Haru’s clearly just fucking with him, since he’s not putting much of a grip on it to keep it away when Sousuke swipes upwards to grab it.

Haru retakes his seat, and it catches up with Sousuke that Kisumi must’ve had to fill the two in on his situation in order for him to be here right now.

“It is _not_ fair that three of you know how to kill me so easily now.”

“The whole thing is so ridiculous,” Kisumi sighs. “I really thought you’d just knocked a few screws loose when you told me.”

“Thanks, Kis.”

“But there aren’t any… I don’t know, cosmic repercussions for what you did, are there?” Makoto asks. “Did you break any rules?”

There’s that whole eternity in hell concept he’s coming to terms with, sure, but none of them need to know that detail. It’ll only be an upsetting reveal, and a truth he’d be better off keeping from people who haven’t experienced it yet. Living with that knowledge when you don’t have to might be for the best. “Nah. Legal loopholes. Go figure.”

“But now you’re vulnerable,” Haru chimes in. “So be more careful. That wasn’t easy to fix without killing you _longer_ , and I think that would’ve made Makoto upset.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ll remember that the next time someone’s trying to murder me for not dying the first time.”

Makoto leans in. “He’s thanking you for helping me.”

“Clearly.”

Haru looks at Makoto through a sudden flash of anger that takes Sousuke by surprise. “No, I haven’t thanked them yet, because I haven’t had a chance to be pissed off _first_ , Makoto.”

“Haru,” Makoto consoles.

“Later,” he mumbles, forming tight fists on his lap. He directs his attention to Sousuke, and blatantly changes the subject. “Get out of my bed, Yamazaki.”

He throws his legs over to stand. “Thought it felt a bit small.”

“Thanks for breaking into a cold sweat before dying on my sheets. Now I have to wash all the bedding.”

“Well shit Haru,” Sousuke exhales as he stretches his shoulders out, “these sheets are so comically small you can toss ‘em in on the quick wash, so it shouldn’t take too long.”

Makoto looks between them both with a frown. “ _Guys_.”

Sousuke holds Haru in a mutual glare for a moment before cracking a grin. Haru stands and looks down his nose at him, but not angrily. Curiously. He feels like he hit some major checkpoint on the perilous path to Haru’s approval he didn’t realize he was on by shamelessly insulting all ten pounds of him. Not that he _needs_ approval from this surprisingly helpful punk ass, but Makoto might appreciate his effort.

Haru stoops for a beat up messenger bag on the side of his desk and pulls the strap over his head. “I’ll go get us food. My head isn’t on the bounty board, and I don’t have enough to feed you all anyway.”

“Haru, anyone could’ve seen you,” Makoto protests. “We waited for Kisumi for a long time.”

“If they saw us, they would’ve come after us,” Haru says. “And I don’t want pizza,” he adds quickly when Makoto opens his mouth again, sending it firmly shut into a pout. “So I’m going to the stand down the street for donburi, and I will be back in ten minutes.”

They let him go without further complaint. Sousuke can’t speak for the other two, but he is downright famished. The sandwiches from before are nowhere in sight, and he wouldn’t blame Kisumi or Makoto for eating his share. He _would_ blame Haru, and in fact that’s probably who ate it.

“So what the hell happened to you?” Sousuke asks Kisumi. “We shook our headhunters.”

“Right, and while I tried to lose mine, _yours_ joined in. I had to break away from _four_ grunts in total. Once I _did_ fight my way outside, I ran into yours, and I then had to run from all of them for over an hour.”

“They hurt you?”

“No… actually it’s a detail I’m worried about.”

“They want us,” Makoto fills in.

“Yeah, no one pulled a gun,” Sousuke recalls.

“The sooner we get that cash, the better,” Kisumi mumbles. “We should consider another country again. _Far_ away.”

Sousuke looks to Makoto, who is currently more interested in the ground. “... Are we taking you home today?”

He shakes his head in denial and speaks sterilly. “It’s late, actually, which you probably haven’t realized. It took all day to find a face that fit for the watch. So we’ll go tomorrow when it’s lighter out. I’d like to look my best and well-rested anyway when I go back to them so they don’t freak out more than they’re going to. Then we’ll go to the police.”

“It might be better if we went through the police _first_ , don’t you think?” Kisumi responds. “They’re incompetent but it’s better than waltzing through your front door with no back up, that way me and Sou can split sooner.”

“Oh. Yeah, that would be safer,” Makoto agrees.

“Disappear. Be _gone,_ ” Kisumi stresses, looking between them both suspiciously. “Scarce and not _here_ anymore _.”_

Sousuke glares at him. “We get it, Kis.”

“And you’re not going to _say_ anything about it?”

“No,” Sousuke snaps, irritated with Kisumi’s method of addressing their elephant in the room. “Stop it.”

Because it wouldn’t be fair to Makoto for him to say anything, and it wouldn’t be fair to Sousuke for Makoto to. This has been an inherent knowledge of their situation since the day prior, and neither is going to sit there and pretend their respective families are less important, objectively, than they are to each other. Talking about it in the open will only get someone’s feelings hurt. If Sousuke were the type to ditch Kisumi this easily, it would’ve happened on the playground a lifetime ago.

His family will _always_ come first, and Makoto looks up with a pathetic look on his face that says he just reached the same conclusion regarding his own.

It’s Kisumi who’s incensed over it though, audibly clicking his tongue and standing up abruptly. “Bullshit. I’m going outside.”

“Oh, Kisumi, maybe you shouldn’t?” Makoto suggests, always mindful.

“No, I _really_ should,” he mutters before moving the blinds and letting himself out onto Haru’s patio, slamming the sliding door hard enough to make Sousuke flinch.

“You can talk to him about it,” Makoto says. “Without me. I don’t mind.”

“I’m not,” Sousuke grunts. “There’s nothing to discuss, and that’s why he’s pissed.”

Makoto slouches forward on his chair and hangs his head between his hands. “Kissing you was a mistake. I’m sorry. It was cruel of me to do. It’s only made this harder.”

“It wasn’t,” he sighs. “We got caught up in it, but I won’t regret it. If anything I’m sorry that I’m not in a situation to stay. I’m a lousy criminal who’s backed himself into a corner, Makoto. That’s it. Find someone better.”

“This isn’t fair,” Makoto grits through his teeth. _“Why you?!_ I don’t care about any of that! All I wanted was my family for _months_ and it wasn’t complicated. Then you show up with _everything_ I’ve selfishly wanted in another person and some terrible, untouchable _asshole_ makes it _impossible_ \- _damn_ it. _”_

 _Everything_ , Sousuke mouths privately through a tight throat. An entire concept Makoto wants, top to bottom- is that what he means? What does everything mean to Sousuke? Is it the sorts of things he and Kisumi don’t share with each other that Sousuke thinks about when no one’s looking? The sorts of things he gave up a long time ago to become who he is today? The sacrifice he made without question so that they’d never go hungry again?

No, it isn’t. It isn’t everything. Without Kisumi he’d be nothing. He wouldn’t be able to sit here and debate what _everything_ is for himself since without Kisumi, he _never_ would’ve been loved, and wouldn’t know what it was he was contemplating here. Since he’s only ever really had his one loyal, unwavering friend and still made it this far- still kicking, still wanting something for himself- it stands to reason that this idea of _everything_ isn’t even particularly _vital_ to him.

Makoto’s proven he’d do anything for his family, and Sousuke doesn’t have to know Haru inside and out to know the same applies to him after a single conversation. So no, Sousuke isn’t _that_ sort of everything to Makoto either.

But when he looks at Makoto, he sees something better than an idea he can’t live without. He sees someone for the first time other than his family who he _wants_ to make room for. _Wants_ to share himself with. Makoto means to say Sousuke is someone he could share everything _with_ , and that’s the thought that warms to Sousuke, and what’ll be the hardest thing he’ll ever leave behind. Maybe in another fucking _universe_ where he didn’t get himself into this impossibly hopeless situation over _money_ , they could’ve had what they wanted. But they have people they need to live and fight for, who deserve their very bests.

“This really sucks,” Sousuke finally agrees. He twists his legs back onto the bed and moves over. “Come here.”

“Haru-”

“-Will have to understand. Come here.”

Maybe it isn’t the scene he envisioned when he thought about sharing a bed with Makoto for the first time, but the fleetingness is tragically fitting. Haru returns to them quietly resting shoulder to shoulder, and only serves them their food where they rest without comment.

* * *

 

They have to be quiet; Kisumi and Haru are sleeping.

Makoto must know where some of his spare clothes are kept from before his absence, and hands Sousuke a pullover while reaching for a jacket from the end of the clothing rack for himself. They slip their shoes on well enough to be able to walk, and Sousuke handles the door. They don’t speak until they’re down the street from the building, irrationally afraid their friends might hear them if they dare, and only then do they risk making more noise to pull the backs of their shoes over their heels.

Makoto stands tall and takes a deep breath through his nose. “Finally.”

“What?”

“I get to be outside, and _not_ actively on the run.” He cuts Sousuke a bright grin that isn’t dampened in the slightest by the dark of night, and Sousuke notices his lip doesn’t split anymore. “... Even if it’s freezing.”

They’d been lying nose to nose for what felt like hours on the floor long after Haru kicked Sousuke off the bed and Kisumi stole a pillow to the other side of the room. Makoto wasn’t kicked off, but he was on the floor too before Haru could finish telling him so.

Sousuke could hardly stand it, how forlornly Makoto looked at him, and how he only touched his face in a way that showed Makoto was already trying to commit him to a far away memory. But Sousuke let him do it until he got sick of it too. Makoto rolled over suddenly to stand and offer a hand up without explanation.

“This is all we’ll get alone,” Makoto finally explains. “I’m not going to lie there in silence feeling sorry for myself. I don’t want you to think of me that way.”

“How would you like me to think of you?”

Makoto hums in thought. “Just… fondly, I’d hope.”

“You’ve set the bar _impossibly_ high,” Sousuke ribs. “I don’t know if I can pull off something as lofty as _fond_.”

“Those are the terms,” Makoto laughs. “Even I have standards for myself.”

“Kissing thieves and conmen isn’t an aspirational standard.”

The mirth in his eyes suggests he doesn’t give half a shit, but he’s too polite to say so. “Walk with me.”

Sousuke steps forward and takes his outstretched hand and lets Makoto navigate down the empty sidewalk. He finally gets to rub a thumb over Makoto’s coarse, cracked knuckles as he squeezes his fingers, and this time Makoto’s grip in return is firm and sure.

“If… one day, if things get better around here, and the right people get caught, and no one’s looking for you anymore,” Makoto starts, “maybe we can… try again.”

He clenches his jaw and swallows. “Do you want me to agree or tell you what’ll really happen?” Sousuke asks.

“You can tell me,” Makoto answers sadly, but not unsurprised. He had to have known Sousuke is no idealist.

“We’ll get new identities when we can, me and Kis. I wouldn’t risk you in the meantime, neither would he. You might be relocated for your protection. By the time this city starts to turn itself around, it’ll be a few years from now. Trust me, that entire compound will be razed to the ground one day. And uh, you’ll have moved on by then. By the time we’re free to return, I’ll be a memory you don’t recall every day.”

“... Sousuke.”

“Because I don’t want to come back here in a few years and find you waiting for some idea of us you’ve built up in your head.”

“I’m not just going to forget about you.”

“But you have to _live,_ too. And _if_ I can come back, I want us to meet again with good stories to share, even if they’re the sort of stories we had to experience with someone else.”

It’s one of those things he simply _knows_ deep down; that he has no intention of really doing that himself. He never wanted to share until Makoto, and life after Makoto will be much of the same of keeping his inner circle exclusive. Makoto is _special_ , and Sousuke’s met enough scumbags in his life to know that Makoto also is _exceptional_ , and he won’t meet someone like that again. Not in this strata of society he can’t seem to get himself out of.

But he wouldn’t tell Makoto any of that, who should be allowed to find someone else and not pine over a person he’s only known for a few days. He’s had half a year of his life stolen from him already; Sousuke would never want to be responsible for implying he should squander more of it for his sake. In fact, it would break his heart if Makoto waited for him.

“You wanted to repay me, so… live, okay? That’s how you’re going to.”

He’s quiet for a few steps. “If I agree… you have to promise I’ll see you again eventually.”

“Makoto,” he sighs.

“Don’t make me come looking for you, I’m very clumsy and that sort of trek would be bad for my health and likely my ankles.”

Sousuke comes to a stop and tugs Makoto to turn and face him. They’re on any other empty dark sidewalk in the early morning hours, now walking along the edge of a desolate, wide parking lot. “Stubborn fuck.”

He nods. “Absolutely.”

“Can’t be helped,” Sousuke mutters.

“Not as stubborn as you. I haven’t died and fought my way back to life yet. That’s an entirely new level of stubborn.”

“Point taken. I promise, all right?”

Makoto’s determined features break to relief. “Good... I would’ve done it.”

“I _know_ ,” Sousuke groans. “That’s why I agreed.”

He tugs Makoto by the hand he still has again to step closer, and releases him to settle his hands on the sides of his neck. Makoto sighs in contentment as Sousuke rubs his thumbs along his cheekbones, and settles his arms around Sousuke’s waist. His face is warm and flushed for how cold it is; Sousuke doesn’t figure he’s doing much better himself in this arena.

“You should kiss me this time instead,” Makoto suggests, a grin making its way back onto his face. “I keep doing all the work.”

What a mistake it is to do it, Makoto will say again later, knowing Sousuke will silently agree this time now that he’s fallen completely for something he can’t have no matter how much he steals and lies. Knowing what it is won’t stop them from kissing and talking all night, asking questions about their pasts and futures and learning about all the the things they have in common, and the many more things that they don’t.

The grass on a stump of a hill obscured behind an old rec center is months dead and frozen over, and the only way to ward the chill is to stay as close as they can. It means the watch ticks loudly enough for both of them to hear in the early morning quiet when they’ve run out of things to talk about for now, and all that’s left are the unspoken farewells. Makoto plays with it delicately and runs his fingertips feather light around the edges, unintentionally reminding Sousuke of its crippling fragility.

 _Anything_ could break this watch between now and the day he comes back. He’ll be on the run; there’s nowhere really safe to leave it. It could be stolen, stepped on, lost on a street if the band breaks and he doesn’t notice… One silly accident is all it would take.

And Makoto thinks he hears the sounds of hope and reunion between each second, while Sousuke listens to the tick and thinks it’s more of a countdown. He feels the phantom pain of his scorched palm, thinks of all of these dead ends, and the worst thought of all: a promise he might not be able to keep in this life _or_ the next.

Some things are always better left unsaid.

* * *

 

Their car ride to the police station is dead silent. Half because there’s nothing to say, and half because Haru and Kisumi woke up to their absence and are too riled up from it to say anything even if there was.

The process goes by in a blur of a lot of high-ranking officers and interrogation rooms that make him feel claustrophobic. He answers as it all happened, too sick with it all to lie or come up with anything other than the truth. It’s as good as ratting on Takumi; completely shattering the honor code scum like him hold so dear. He gives them everything he knows, which isn’t enough to take him down, but enough to turn their eye towards his business. He hopes.

But Sousuke at his criminal core is a thief first, and there’s some sort of saying out there about how thieves feel about honor at the end of the day. Especially honor for pieces of shit that have ruined his life so completely and _utterly_. Pieces of shit that don’t deserve the mercy of getting to walk away, and can only be so lucky Sousuke cares about some people more than he hates his enemies.

Then just like that, Kisumi and Sousuke check out with the station cashier and stand outside with a paltry reward of twenty thousand yen to split between their pockets.

Kisumi laughs as he divides the bills, loudly and so fucking _done_ with it. “We should’ve known.”

Sousuke chuckles too. What else is there to do but to laugh about it? “We really should’ve.”

“We’ll use it to take a train to the nearest town over and grab dinner tonight. I mean, _fuck_ it at this point, right?”

“With a nice bottle of wine.”

“Naturally. A red, too, if I can convince you. We need it.” Kisumi sighs. “You gonna say goodbye?”

Sousuke looks to the station door. “... I think we covered it.”

“Sou,” he says gently. “Go say goodbye. Don’t disappear like that. I’ll wait.”

It’s against his wishes. He wants to walk away. Long goodbyes aren’t really his style, and Makoto should be thinking about his family now. Restarting his life. But he walks back through the doors anyway, and finds Makoto off to the side with an officer nearby. Makoto smiles up at him as if he was expecting his return, which is even worse.

“I just uh, wanted to let you know we’re taking off.”

“All right,” Makoto says easily as he stands. “I think I’m getting a ride home too here in a minute.”

“I’m happy for you,” Sousuke responds, feeling it warm his chest. “Haru gone?”

“He is! I’ll see him later.”

Sousuke frowns. “I was hoping to make fun of him one more time.”

He smiles apologetically. “I’ll tell him.”

There are enough people bustling about around them that it’s stiff and awkward, especially after already spending the night together to take care of this. Makoto stands tall, though, and steps forward to pull Sousuke into a simple hug. “I don’t like goodbyes,” he whispers.

“Me either,” Sousuke answers, returning his hug briefly and letting him go. It feels _wrong_ after an entire night of Makoto saying it wasn't forever, to the point that even Sousuke wondered if it could be true however briefly. Makoto doesn’t give friendly pats on the back after something like that. Sousuke doesn’t fucking want one, either. Not after all that’s happened. So why are they doing this?

“Thank you again for your help.”

“Uh, right,” he mumbles stupidly. He should’ve fucking ran and not looked back, goddammit. This isn’t the memory he wanted to take with him. There was no love in that. Nothing to share.

“Mr. Tachibana,” the officer grunts roughly behind him. Sousuke wills down a shudder at the hard use of his last name. Even in a different context it’s still too recent. Makoto stiffens at his shoulders as well. “Your ride is waiting.”

“Take care, Sousuke.”

Makoto’s led towards the back and away by the officer before Sousuke registers he’s turned and gone, and Sousuke irrationally thinks of ripping his wristwatch off to stomp on in the middle of the station when the ticking fills in the space he left behind.

Maybe they can skip the dinner and take the train even farther than one town over. Kisumi should understand why he might want to be as far away as they can be in the shortest amount of time.

He brushes shoulders with another officer on his way back out who mutters something irritable under his breath. They mutually turn to size up the other, Sousuke because he’s already feeling sour and this guy because he’s a prick, apparently, and when they lock eyes the officer narrows his for a fraction of a second before they blow wide.

“Can I help you?” Sousuke snaps.

The officer’s shocked gaze falls past Sousuke’s face, then back to him, and he eases back with a _shitty_ smirk. “Nah. Have a nice day, Yamazaki.”

Sousuke rolls his eyes. They _are_ wanted, after all. All the bigger reason to get the fuck out of dodge before the police stop turning a blind eye for the sake of their missing person turn-in. He turns back and sees Kisumi must’ve been the distraction standing behind him.

He’s white as a sheet, and he’s already rather pale.

“Kis?”

“Where is he?” he asks thickly.

“Gone.”

“Haru?”

“Gone, I guess, what’s wr-”

Kisumi turns towards the parking lot before he can even finish speaking and _sprints_ away. Sousuke has no option but to follow. Haru’s car is pulling out of its spot and straightening to drive out, and Kisumi desperately waves his arms as he runs to get Haru’s attention. Haru drives all the way to the exit before his brake lights flash and the car lurches forward to a sudden stop and even then Kisumi doesn’t slow.

“Unlock the door!” Kisumi shouts and doesn’t wait for it to happen, just assumes and throws himself onto the passenger seat. Sousuke stumbles into the back. “Go to Makoto’s _now_!”

“I _am_ ,” Haru answers.

“Kisumi!” Sousuke shouts.

“That _cop_ was not a fuckin’ cop, so, you have to go now, _go-_ ”

“Who _is it_ Kisumi?!”

“One of the fuckers who killed you!” he shouts.

It’s good enough for Haru, apparently, who turns out sharp and and accelerates before Sousuke’s even sitting up again. “ _What_?”

“One of the guys, I wouldn’t forget, I know who I saw, so it-”

“They’ve known where his family is,” Haru finishes calmly. “Right?”

“Fuck,” Sousuke curses.

“Two of the officers we spoke with were very odd,” he continues. “They weren’t recording our interview or writing anything down. They kept asking where you were going, I said I didn’t know. I had a bad feeling but didn’t know who I could trust in the station. They refused to let me ride with him. I couldn’t talk to him alone at all and he was hiding something by the way he said goodbye. So I was on my way over to his house anyway to confirm my suspicions.”

“Why didn’t you say something?!” Kisumi drills.

“... I can handle it.”

“Holy shit,” Sousuke interrupts. “Haru- I mean, he’s in _trouble_ , Haru.”

“So were you. You have your money, you could’ve run.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Don’t _yell_ at me for making an impossible decision,” Haru snaps back. “You already told us you had to leave to get somewhere safe. What was I supposed to do, drag you back in on a hunch?”

“What were you _going_ to do on your own if you’re right?!” Sousuke counters.

Haru bites his lip and grips his steering wheel tight. “Pay off his debt.”

Sousuke laughs and throws his head back to collide with the top of the backseat. These two are so in over their heads he can’t even devote a healthy panic to it. Kisumi rubs the heels of his palms to his temples and groans.

“Well I’m _sorry_ I don’t know how your crooked business works!” Haru bristles. “ _All_ I can do is try and buy his way out! That’s the only way everyone gets to walk away, right? It’s _always_ about _money_ with your type.”

“You’ll _never_ be able to, that’s the _entire_ point of it all,” Sousuke says bitterly. “Every time he needs medical attention after a fight, he racks up more debt. Food. Clothing. All of it is used against him to _keep him there_ and draw a crowd. Now they’ll use his absence and the fire _I_ started as another line item that lost them money. Get it now?”

Haru visibly grinds his teeth together in anger and keeps his focused glare on the road. “This is all your fault.”

“ _Whoa_ ,” Kisumi responds. “What the _hell_ , Haru?!”

“Aren’t you part of the problem?! Aren’t you half the reason any of that exists, one of the people involved with turning this city inside out in the _first_ place?!”

“We’ve always done what we had to do to get by,” Kisumi levels lowly. “Don’t you dare blame him for doing _exactly_ what Makoto felt he had to do for the same.”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Haru growls. “You built yourselves up at the expense of everyone else. Got into business with bad people, stole from others, and lied to put food on your table. Makoto sacrificed _himself_ for his family because he felt like he had no other option but to turn to people like _you_ who are always ready to take from selfless people like him _._ ”

“We were _starving_ kids who needed food! We got into _gambling_ exactly because no one got hurt!” Kisumi yells. “We have fuck all to do with what it is now!”

“It _turned into_ _this_ because you’re all too greedy and awful to be trusted for anything! You don’t just get to put down a foundation of exploitation like that, work with slummy people like _him_ , and then pretend like the outcome had nothing to do with you.”

“What the-”

“Kisumi, _stop_ ,” Sousuke demands abruptly. “Enough. He’s right.”

“He’s not even _close_ to right.”

“Maybe we don’t condone it, but we weren’t going to do anything to stop it either, were we? And I… I _could’ve_ stopped it originally, if I didn’t fuck it up for us and… I got greedy too. This entire thing is because I wanted _more_ after we already had _enough_ , remember? And I got caught. If I’d been there, I could’ve done something, but I was too busy saving my own ass. Everything I’ve done has been an act of self-preservation. Everything. I’m just as bad, so. He’s right. I may as well have been the one to shove Makoto towards Takumi in the first place.”

Haru glances between them and sighs. “I’m grateful for what you’ve done for him regardless,” he says, calm again. “He would want me to be, so I am. And you’re not bad people; you never _meant_ to hurt anyone. But don’t think for a second that you’re innocent, even if I forgive you.”

They both fall into silence for the remainder of the drive. Kisumi leans into the car door as far away from Haru as he can get and Sousuke stares at his hands in his lap. Whether or not Haru’s ultimately right or wrong or just angry and looking for someone to blame doesn’t matter. Perhaps the worst part of all is what he said makes Sousuke realize even if he stayed dead this would’ve inevitably been the result. Haru struggling to come up with a solution, Makoto still fighting, Kisumi still hopelessly stuck and unsafe. Every outcome can be traced to mistakes he can’t take back no matter how hard he’s tried to fix everything.

Makoto said it was his choice to do what he did, even if it wasn’t his choice to stay. He and Kisumi might not have had a choice when they were younger than to steal and cheat to eat, but it was certainly their choice to keep doing it once they had food. Of course he’s culpable to some degree.

Haru parks in front of what Sousuke assumes is the Tachibana household, small but lived in. They follow Haru to the door, through it when it’s unlocked and no one answers it, and into the cramped space. It seems empty, and Haru is still and quiet for a moment at the edge of genkan before he speaks.

“... Makoto,” he calls out with an edge of relief. “It’s just us.”

Sousuke looks down and sees the shoes he gave Makoto originally set neatly to the wall, and is all at once so relieved he could collapse and simultaneously terrified for why Makoto would be here but no one else would be. He was supposed to go back to the ring, wasn’t he?

Haru walks farther in without waiting for a response or taking off his shoes. Sousuke and Kisumi find Makoto on the floor of the kitchen, leaning against the undercounter cupboards with knees drawn up and his face buried in his arms. Haru’s quick to his side and squatting in front of him, shaking him gently at the shoulder until he looks up. He’s got that empty look again that gnaws at Sousuke from the inside, but he seems physically unharmed.

“... You’re okay,” Haru greets. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” Makoto answers. “Safe. For now. Apparently.”

“They were moved?”

“Under the excuse that they were in danger, the _police_ moved them somewhere else,” Makoto explains dryly. “Of course, I can’t know where it is… not all of them are good cops. I didn’t think they’d drop me off here, I thought they’d just take me to Takumi- I-”

“It’s okay,” Haru refocuses for him. “What do we have to do?”

Makoto looks past Haru at Sousuke and Kisumi then. “They told me that my family _stays_ safe if we trade for it.”

“Us,” Sousuke guesses.

“Right. Or me.”

“Don’t even think about it, Makoto,” Haru warns.

“I’m certainly not asking Sousuke and Kisumi to go,” Makoto responds. “You have to know I wouldn’t.”

“ _None_ of us are going,” Sousuke nearly yells.

“Well we have a day,” Makoto continues plainly. “To decide. He wants us alive and willing no matter who goes, so they gave us a day to make a decision. A man told me to tell you, Sousuke, that the grace period is a gesture of friendship.”

“ _This_ is why you wanted me and Kis to leave? So that it _had_ to be you?” Sousuke asks incredulously over the guilty knot in his stomach.

Makoto nods once. “I just wanted some time in my home for a little while before turning myself over. I didn’t expect any of you to show up. And I’m not going to change my mind, so please don’t argue with me about this.”

Haru snaps his head over to Sousuke and Kisumi. “Sit down. Come up with something.”

“Haru-”

“We have a day, right?” Kisumi reasons hastily. “Let’s use it.”

Makoto stands abruptly, even throwing Haru off balance and onto the floor, and walks out of the kitchen without a word. Haru is on his feet just as quickly and hurrying after him, but not before he gives Sousuke a look that says he better figure something out. Sousuke hears a door slam, and Kisumi heaves a pained sigh.

“Last chance to go, Kis,” Sousuke offers lamely. “You can take my half and run. Get out of here.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “Let’s sit and think.”

Sousuke’s nearly comatose at the Tachibana kotatsu- exhausted and out of ideas- but Kisumi’s taking notes on a legal pad he found.

“ _Think_ with me.”

“... I don’t know what to do.”

“Not good enough. Think.”

Sousuke looks up at him from his sprawl over the top. “I’m going. You’re holding Makoto here. That’s the answer.”

“That’s a _shit_ answer and you know it.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t shit.”

“Not happening,” he mumbles, turning back to his scribbling. “You didn’t come back just to throw it away like this.”

“I’m already fucked, Kis,” Sousuke confesses quietly.

The scribble stops and Kisumi furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I lied about the legal loopholes. There are consequences for what I did. Let me go to Takumi and end this, there’s already nothing waiting for me. It doesn’t matter. Let me do something meaningful with what I have left, okay? Have I _not_ fucked you all over enough as it is yet?”

Sousuke yelps in surprise when Kisumi smacks the top of his head, and the scribbling resumes. “I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile. Shut up.”

“Ow! Kisumi!”

“Shut _up_ , Sousuke. Snap out of it. That is irrelevant. We have a _day_. You have many _years_. We can talk about whatever you’re going on about after we’re out of this mess. Now, we can’t all storm up and light shit on fire again. I’d say that element of surprise is done and gone, right?”

“I guess,” he sighs, rubbing the sting away.

“So I suggest the Fujiwaras.”

Sousuke sits up, interest suddenly piqued. “The shady business we _stole_ copper from?”

“The shady business that also _hates_ Taki,” Kisumi continues. “That’s why we stole from _them_ in particular. What are the odds they’d hear us out for a chance to neuter his overreach?”

“Slim to _none_. They hate us too by association, Kis. That’s why we were so careful to get in and out of there unrecognized.”

“What’s that saying though… the enemy of my enemy is my friend? We _are_ duplicitous. And we owe Taki no loyalty, I’m sure they’ll believe that after a _very_ brief explanation. I doubt they’re happy with how he’s attempting to run the city. We can use our shitty morals for good here.”

Sousuke drums his fingertips on the kotatsu top in thought. “ _If_ they didn’t figure out it was us, _maybe_ they’ll speak with us and not shoot us on sight.”

“We were as good as dead without this option anyway, right?” Kisumi says with a wry grin. “We _still_ have no money. Since I let you go to Taki without me once, I won’t make that mistake again. Let’s be honest with each other like we’ve always been; I’m not running this time. Your turn.”

Sousuke squares his shoulders. “I would never leave you behind, but Makoto means a lot to me, and I’d do anything for him, too.”

“There we go. Easy. You won’t run either. So we’ll take him down or die trying. I deserve it for the shit he put me through. You for your murder. Makoto deserves it. So does Haru. The heartbroken Tachibanas who think their son is _dead_ in part because of us. Rei. Nagisa. The kid we had to leave behind that day- _everyone_.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Sousuke says lamely.

“Well then fuck, Sou, we better succeed, don’t you think?”

He laughs despite it all. “Ten thousand yen says this blows up in our face somehow.”

“Everything always blows up in our face. That’s not a bet I want to take. But when it’s over and we’re all sitting together over a good meal, _you_ can pay for it. Because you’ll be there too, and I want to have to yell at you to get your attention off Makoto long enough to find your damn wallet and get the tab.”

Sousuke looks down for a moment to let it all sink in. He’s always thought of having money, having only a partner in crime and in nothing else, having some wildly exciting life where everything is on a razor-sharp edge. That’s what living was for so long and he didn’t know any better.

And maybe that’s how he got himself killed so easily in the first place.

It’s the simple _boring_ thought of even a chance it could happen before he hands himself over to hell one day: Makoto leaning on his shoulder after a _real_ meal with Kisumi and Haru rolling their eyes across the table that makes him say yes, for _this_ idea, and not for selfish revenge, he can risk himself one more time.


	5. and it’s hard to find angels in hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sousuke just might be the most stubborn soul in the known universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks if you read this. i had fun with it. if you've left me feedback you're on an entirely new tier of kindness and you're the sort of reason i'm still at this hobby. ♥  
> [tumblr](http://iskabee.tumblr.com)

Haru looks up from Makoto’s bed when Sousuke lets himself into the room, and excuses himself without being asked to. Sousuke wouldn’t have minded if he stayed to hear the plan from him, but he won’t complain either. Haru and Kisumi probably have a bit of patching up to do since the tense car ride anyway.

Makoto’s flat on his back and staring at his ceiling. Sousuke figures this is his bedroom, sparsely decorated but a few personal items here and there including framed photographs of his family that Sousuke doesn’t have the courage to look closer at right now. He lolls his head to the side to acknowledge Sousuke, and grants him a small smile.

“You can join me,” Makoto answers before Sousuke can ask.

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to offend Haru. He might take me being in your bed the wrong way, you know, since you guys are together?” Sousuke jests half-heartedly.

Makoto rolls his eyes. “Shush. Let me live it down, would you?”

“Not a chance,” he says as he flops down next to him.

Makoto angles his head to rest on Sousuke’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I stormed out. It was immature.”

“Happens. We have a plan, sort of, if you’ll hear it. If you won’t, we’re gonna do it anyway. We have a day, so give us the day.”

He sighs quietly. “Okay.”

“We know people. So we’re going to try and make an appeal on a common enemy for some help.”

“... Is it dangerous?”

Sousuke finds Makoto’s hand between them and laces their fingers, silently happy for the chance to hold it again. “It might be,” he answers honestly. “Nature of the business. But all of this is dangerous, Makoto.”

“You know how I feel about the plan, then.”

“And you know how I feel about you going to do this alone when you have people here to support you, so you have to deal with us exercising all of our options here. Rash decision making isn’t really working out for us, wouldn’t you say? Compromise with me on a plan we’ve finally thought through.”

“Will you come back?”

“As soon as we’ve met with them and got our answer and next steps. Promise. But we need to leave now.”

“Okay, but-”

“No, you and Haru cannot come with us.”

Makoto _humphs_ and squeezes his hand before he lets it go in favor of rolling inwards to drape an arm across Sousuke’s chest and better rest his head in the crook of Sousuke’s neck. “Fine. But stay here a minute before you go. I feel awful for how I spoke to you at the station.”

“You nearly ripped a guy’s heart out and broke it with that pal-buddy-friend hug you gave him.”

“Speaking of…” Makoto trails, brushing his fingertips down Sousuke’s arm and stopping at his watch. “Leave that here until you come back.”

Sousuke holds his arm up to stare at it. “You sure?”

“It’s safer with Haru and I if you think these people could potentially want to harm you, right? One less thing to worry about.”

Sousuke hums and gets the arm pinned by Makoto free enough to uncouple the latch and hand it to him. “Smart. But you sure? It’s sort of uh, important. To me, anyway. Big responsibility and all.”

“It’s reassurance. So I know you’re okay as long as it’s working, and so you know I won’t do anything rash while you’re gone as long as I have it.”

“Smart _er_ ,” Sousuke remarks. He then hears Kisumi call for him from a distance. “I gotta go.”

Makoto nods against him curtly and sits up enough to look him in the eye. He looks exhausted, physically and emotionally, but there’s a peace with him too. It’s another moment in suspension, something that can’t be held up above the mess for very long, and a peace Makoto will let go of once Sousuke leaves the room.

“Be careful,” Makoto wills him as he sweeps some of his hair back into its place where it’s fallen disheveled. Sousuke answers with a kiss he knows better than to give him; too deep and too long and too open ended. It feels like he’s tempting fate again to unearth their buried kisses they left on the hill that morning. Like he’s dragging Makoto into his knack for disregarding natural endings, just for one more selfish, greedy taste of him. At the end of the day, maybe that’s just what Sousuke _is_.

“I needed that,” Makoto confesses when they part, expression cloudy and conflicted. “I’m sorry.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Sousuke whispers. “Our secret.”

Makoto drops his gaze away. “Yeah.”

“Get some rest while I’m gone,” he says to rebury them. “We didn’t really sleep.”

“I’ll try. Difficult right now.”

“They’re gonna be all right.” Sousuke closes his eyes when he disentangles from Makoto to stand. He doesn’t want to take whatever look he’s given for doing it with him to where he’s going. “We all are.”

“Blinding optimism doesn’t suit you.”

“Trying it out for once, considering the circumstances.”

Kisumi yells impatiently again, and Sousuke hurries to get out of there before he fucks anything else up.

* * *

 

They take Haru’s car to the tune of his _very_ verbal protests. But time is of the essence, and there’s something anticlimactic and momentum killing to take public transportation for an hour to get to the general area and then walk another twenty minutes to the Fujiwara business front. Instead Kisumi parks them down the street but not _too_ far just in case there comes need for a quick getaway.

On the surface, they’re a boring financial firm that shares space with a bunch of other small businesses that make up the business park. In the back (where all the copper is), they’re actually only one business that lifts identities and credit cards, offers systems hacking, and sells firearms. That last thing is where Takumi’s been cutting into their profits, according to Kisumi’s debriefing on the drive over.

Before Kisumi opens the door to the small lobby, he casts Sousuke a look that betrays his resolve from earlier. “If they know it was us…”

“We’re sweet talkers,” Sousuke assures. “The Fujiwaras won’t be the dicks to take us down after everything we went through. That’d be some bullshit.”

Kisumi nods and swallows hard, but opens the door anyway.

Their likely innocent receptionist greets them with a smile. Sousuke doesn’t actually know how to get to the people he’s here for, now that he’s standing here like an idiot. “Manager in? I have a meeting. Sousuke Yamazaki, Kisumi Shigino. Seiko Credit Card Company.”

“Oh,” she says in confusion, looking them up and down in their plain clothes. “I don’t recall her having one right now.”

“Go ahead and let her know we’re here for me?” Kisumi asks with that damn bumbly Franco-Japanese mangled accent _thing_ he does. “I promise she’ll remember.”

“Um… I can assure you she has no appointments.”

Kisumi looks downright insulted, and Sousuke looks around for the nearest security camera. It’s trained right on them, so now he simply needs to wait. Kisumi follows his gaze and makes a small _oh_ with his mouth.

The receptionist’s phone rings after a few awkward seconds, and she excuses herself to answer it. “...I see. Okay... Yes ma’am.” She hangs up and turns back to them. “I apologize for my skepticism, I’ll walk you back.”

Sousuke pats Kisumi on the back as he mumbles to him. “Guess it only works on old women.”

“You are _still_ such a shit.”

She leads them down a hall of offices and stops at an unassuming door with no placard or numbering, and knocks once. “She’ll come and get you,” the receptionist informs them before turning and walking back down the way they came.

They linger outside of whoever’s office this is- Sousuke’s never _met_ the family heads, and they’re notoriously low key, preferring to use surrogates for most of their communication. A lone pair of heels clack from around a corner, and stop at the back of the hallway without coming any closer. She taps her foot impatiently until Sousuke and Kisumi take a hint and walk towards her. She doesn’t wait for them to catch up, and instead starts to walk the way she came at a safe distance from them. She pushes an industrial door open at the end of the next hallway that heads out into the high-afternoon day.

They’re walked across a courtyard that Sousuke vaguely remembers and into the row of warehouses behind another puppet building that Sousuke _definitely_ remembers. It _is_ coincidence that she’s taking them directly on route to the _particular_ warehouse with ground access to the plumbing, right?

“Sou,” Kisumi utters nearly inaudibly, and yet it manages to be laden with worry.

“Shh.”

Their escort finally stops to hold the side door to the warehouse open for them. She’s small and professionally dressed, expression all business and betraying nothing about her. They can’t just back out or show that they’re suddenly nervous about the location. There’s a chance this is coincidence, or maybe they _want_ them to react to confirm their suspicions.

Once inside, she closes the door behind them. The lighting is dim compared to the bright sun they just got out of, but Sousuke makes out a few men as his eyes adjust leaning on crates and idling in uniforms. Around six, which is six too many. The woman walks past them and comes to stand in front of them.

“Yoko,” she says simply. If she’s a Fujiwara or a surrogate, Sousuke doesn’t figure they’re going to be told. “Please excuse the location, I had to assume you weren’t here to discuss normal business.”

“We’re not,” Sousuke confirms. “We’re here to discuss a mutual topic of disdain.”

“Continue.”

“Sakyo Takumi.”

“Your exalted business partner.”

“Former.”

Yoko eyes him up and down with appropriate suspicion. “Explain.”

“I’ve been cheated out of my partnership by him. Half the pot was mine and he chose not to honor our agreement. Seeing as he’s currently running amok in Tokyo, and I’m feeling vindictive, I thought we could discuss the options.”

“So, you’re coming to us for… a _favor_?” she distills. “Last we heard, Yamazaki, you were little more than a mangy street rat, and a lot more _dead_ than the average one at that.”

“Street rats are nothing if not slippery,” he offers coyly. “We came to see if we could be of assistance in making a move. We’re very familiar with his buildings.”

“As are we.” She taps her foot again and folds her arms. “You know, Yamazaki, slippery as street rats are, they _always_ tend to make mistakes when they’re cornered. Act _desperately_ and _predictably,_ even.”

“I won’t deny a bit of pressure on my end, no. He’s tried to kill me over this and you’re the competing family.”

“Sometimes,” she continues as if he hasn’t spoken, “they’re _so_ cornered they make _stupid_ decisions. Like returning to ask _favors_ of the family they robbed.”

Sousuke takes in a long steady breath through his nose to stay calm. He tastes metallic from the back of his throat as his stomach lurches and sinks over the the reveal anyway. Next to him, Kisumi’s gone deathly still.

“We got thirty thousand from that. It’s chump change we can pay back easily.”

“Do it then. Now. With interest. That was, what? In the summer? Let’s say thirty plus twenty percent. Thirty-six.”

“We have twenty,” Sousuke states plainly. “That’s all we have on us.”

“Then it doesn’t sound like you can repay us easily, does it?”

“Yeah, and if we could _make_ more without earning a handgun jammed past our teeth for it, we’d _have_ more,” Kisumi cuts in.

Yoko snaps her eyes to Kisumi and narrows them. “You know what we can’t prove about that night?” she asks him. “That Yamazaki was really there. The figure _looks_ tall and wide like him, sure, but there’s no face shot on the footage.”

“Fuck,” Kisumi breathes in realization as Sousuke silently works out her meaning. Kisumi’s losing his composure as this falls apart at the seams and there’s nothing Sousuke can do to calm him down. The focus should switch to damage control now.

“The _only_ reason we know it was him, is because we know the other person was _you_ , Shigino. Anyone ever mentioned how much you stick out?”

“Once or twice, yeah,” he answers lamely.

“Call it overconfidence that you wouldn’t try and disguise yourself better,” Yoko chides. “The Fujiwaras don’t appreciate overconfidence.”

Kisumi takes half a step back from her. “Thirty thousand!” he yells. “You wouldn’t wipe your worst enemies’ asses with that money!”

“It’s the principle of the thing, and the assumption you’re making that we value either of your lives above thirty thousand is _laughable_.” She turns in part to a few of the men in uniform. “As always, we can’t count on Sakyo to finish _any_ job, can we? Start with Shigino.”

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Sousuke yells as men approach them from either side. “ _Wait_ a minute!”

“Sousuke,” Kisumi pleads in a small voice, then cries out when two of the men grab him by his upper arms.

“Rough him up, don’t kill him yet,” she orders plainly. “He’s so obnoxiously cocky I can’t _stand_ it.”

Sousuke tries to leap for them, but the other men grab him and roughly shove him to his knees with swift kicks to the backs to buckle his legs. They pull his arms back and upwards to keep him there, the threat of something breaking straining his shoulders if he tries to stand.

“ _Stop_ ,” Sousuke shouts panicked as the third guy not holding Kisumi still moves in on him and wastes no time, striking him hard across the face enough to make his nose bleed before he’s taking the next hit and biting back a shout. “Holy fuck _please!_ Stop! _”_

Sousuke’s nauseous just to see it, and even if it isn’t the first time either of them have ended up a punching bag, it’s certainly the most unfair encounter so far. Over fucking _nothing_. He screws his eyes shut and drops his head involuntarily as it ramps up and he sees too much blood and hears too many yelps and whimpers forced through clenched teeth all at once that he can’t do anything about. Someone yanks him up by his hair.

“Watch,” Yoko commands. “Learn your lesson.”

“Please, _stop_ , let him go, it’s my fault, it was _my_ plan to rob you! Not his!”

She sighs. “This might be a difficult thing for people like _you_ to grasp, but _consequences exist_ , Yamazaki.”

“Takumi wants to kill us _anyway_ ,” he bumbles out undone and on broken pitch, “he wants to kill us! Give us over to him, use us to get him, and you’ll still get us but for fuck’s _sake_ don’t torture my fucking friend for your sick fucking pleasure you _fuck!”_

“Sakyo is a fool. His days are numbered anyway.”

“Number them faster! Turn us over! Use us to get to him _now! This_ is disgusting! This is fucked up and this is _never_ how you’ve handled business in the past!” he cries. “I bet you haven’t been able to get close to him but you _can_ with us! He’ll walk right up to you but not if you _kill us!_ ”

“How would you know?” she asks incredulously.

He’s onto something. He takes a shaky breath to stave the desperation in his voice and wills Kisumi to hang in there.

“I’m betraying him, full stop. He doesn’t want _you_ to kill us. _He_ wants to do it- he’s already tried and didn’t succeed- you _know_ how egotistical he is.”

Yoko side eyes him coldly for what feels like an _eternity_. Sousuke’s sweating bullets holding her unreadable gaze, but at least he doesn’t have to watch Kisumi hurt. “Stop,” she finally says, making Sousuke swallow a cry of relief.

Kisumi’s assaulters all but drop him to the concrete floor of the warehouse, and Sousuke sits rod-still with a held breath until Kisumi visibly labors to push up to his knees and stays bent over them with arms wrapped around his middle, forehead to the floor. At least he’s _alive,_ protecting himself, and trying to catch his breath. Like they’ve had to teach each other to do.

“We’ll see about that. Wherever you’ve been the last few months, you’re five steps behind the rest of us. Let me enlighten you, Yamazaki, since no one else has.” She gets her phone out of her pocket and sets it to her ear. “Sakyo,” she greets after a few moments.

Kisumi looks up slowly from his spot as best he can to catch Sousuke’s shocked stare.

“Your friends showed up today. Know anything about that? … Would you like them brought over or should we continue to take care of them here? We’ve already started.”

Kisumi’s bleeding from who fucking knows where all since it’s all over him, and he looks _terrified,_ but thank fucking god he’s focused and conscious. He can take a hit. Knows how to turn into one or away from one depending on the location and nature of it. It sucks that he’s had to learn that through trial and error, but Sousuke’s bottomlessly thankful for their life experience in this moment. Anyone else might not still be with him.

“Four?” Yoko asks in confusion. “No, only the two. You’ll have to send your own for the others.”

All the bravado and hope he charged in here with evaporates in a flash at that statement, and Kisumi lets his forehead fall back toward the floor dejectedly. Instantaneously, Takumi knows they went to the Fujiwaras for help with the day they were given, and knows Makoto and Haru are waiting. Alone and unaware. Exactly where they left Makoto, and Sousuke just wilfully betrayed the man that would seek personal revenge for that sort of thing. Takumi _clearly_ isn’t one to consider he burned the bridge first.

Even if this plan failed, Sousuke thought they’d at least protected Makoto and Haru by offering themselves. He couldn’t have accounted for a liaison between the Fujiwaras and Takumi.

“All right,” she sighs. “If you say so.” Yoko drops her phone back into her pant pocket.

“You’re working with him? You’re fucking kidding me. He’s a double-crosser! You can’t trust him!”

“I’m certain you’re in no position to pretend like you’re anything above a weak man on his knees. But no, Yamazaki. We work with him enough to earn his favor. And you’ll be my ticket in, as you wanted. You’re good for something after all.” She looks to all of the men. “Throw them in the van. He wants them brought over for him to deal with after all, the bloodlusting pest.”

They nearly drag Kisumi who has yet to say anything but groans when he’s jostled to stand, and Sousuke walks on rubbery legs with vice grips around his arms pushing him along. He’d walk unassisted with them at this point, he nearly tells them. He’s never felt more defeated in his life.

Kisumi struggles to step into the back of a double-doored van, making Sousuke flinch when the two who’ve been pulling him along give him a rough shove that topples him over and in. Sousuke steps in and reaches for him, but is pulled back and pushed onto a bench mounted on the inside. Four of the six men get in after them, and Yoko gives them a final passive look.

“You’ll have wished it was us who put a bullet between your eyes instead,” she says. “But we’re more than happy to use you.”

The doors slam shut, and Sousuke pulls for Kisumi again and is barred _again_.

“Would you fucking let me look him over?!” Sousuke snaps. “I’m not going anywhere!”

They don’t relent at all until one man nods to another who leans across from the bench on the other side and pats Sousuke’s pockets, and nods again when he only finds the yen from earlier. The van starts to move.

“Go ahead,” another grunts.

Kisumi’s since been able to pull to a sit against the back of the van on the floor, head back so his chin is pointed up and chest heaving heavily as he breathes long in, and stuttered short out. Sousuke drops to the floor and moves awkwardly over the feet of the men to get to him, settling in the small amount of space left that puts him within reach.

“Hey,” Kisumi exales shakily.

“What’s bad?” Sousuke asks.

He shakes his head without looking down. “Have some faith in me,” he grinds out roughly with a bit of a smirk. “Nose just won’t stop is all.”

“I’m so sorry Kis,” Sousuke whispers. His throat’s gone tight since he moved closer and he blinks back belated stinging tears as anger drains out of his limbs and their situation sinks in. Not tears for himself, but for his failure to fix any of this _again_ , and this inescapable, utterly hopeless, _undeniable_ fact that it’s _all his fault_. Makoto and Haru are about to be manhandled into a car and have _no idea_ what’s going on. After Sousuke promised he’d come back too.

“S’okay,” he slurs. “But I think they got us, Sou.”

Sousuke lets by a growl of frustration that devolves quickly into a _pathetic_ choked sob he can’t keep down, and pushes his way farther to sit next to his friend. Kisumi’s head drops to his shoulder, the rest of him following boneless and exhausted alongside, and Sousuke settles his cheek on Kisumi’s messed up hair. He wonders which of them is in more need of support at this point until Kisumi answers that for him with another question.

“Remember that time I stole that high schooler's pack of smokes and he caught me and beat the _fuck_ out of me?” he suddenly asks, a laugh braiding around it, though at the time it wasn’t funny at all. Sousuke couldn’t protect him then when they were too small and stupid to know how to pick their battles. Nothing’s changed.

“Yeah, you idiot,” Sousuke sighs. “I remember you looking like a busted banana for about two weeks. Before that growth spurt too, so it was just _sad_ lookin’ on a skinny runt like you.”

Kisumi laughs again. “Yeah. That one. Then we milked it for street donations. Anyway, that was worse,” he says louder, earning a glare from the man on the bench responsible for laying Kisumi out. “We never touched a smoke again though.”

“Too bad, huh?”

“Yeah, too bad,” he mumbles quietly, settling more against Sousuke and trailing off to peaceful silence.

All that’s left to do is close his very tired eyes

* * *

 

“Bag and restrain them.”

Sousuke watches with detached disinterest as one of the men opens a panel on the side of the van and retrieves zip ties and two hoods. It’s distantly horrifying that these items are even _stocked_ , and that this van has a _purpose_ , but he’s struggling to bring himself to acknowledge the feeling.

“My wrists are _delicate_ ,” Kisumi warns sarcastically when they drag him off Sousuke first. He laughs bitterly in lieu of grunting as Sousuke watches them zip the ties off _way_ too tight behind his back, and yank the cloth bag down over his head with more force than is strictly necessary as well. He’s hardly surprised Kisumi would end up the defiant one in such a situation. “You’re aware we know where this place is already, right?” Sousuke hears him ask and chuckle once he’s pulled out and off to the side of the van and out of view.

He’s next, and lets it happen without comment. He catches a stale scent in the air and he’s moved to wherever they’re going, and nearly trips up a short step into a building that smells even staler and feels dark. He loses track of how he came in after a few turns since he can’t see, making the point of the hood apparent as now he doesn’t know the most direct way back out, and is abruptly stopped.

“We finally meet, Yoko!”

Sousuke’s queasy with the sudden lurch of adrenaline that floods his system at the sound Takumi’s voice echoing loudly in a large area.

“And you brought me gifts.”

Sousuke stumbles forward off a hard palm shoved between his shoulder blades, and squints into a bright light illuminating Takumi from behind when his hood is yanked off. They’re in the partially burned out fighting ring; on the concrete where the mat used to be, a hanging light on the ground the only source in an otherwise pitch-black soot-stained room. The main door is barred off with a pile of junk, and all that’s easily accessible is the hallway they just came from. He catches the shadows of more henchmen in the wings, which added to Yoko and her men, places him and Kisumi in the middle of one hopelessly outnumbered situation.

“Welcome back, Sousuke,” Takumi greets. “You, my friend, are more resilient than I ever gave you credit for. You’ll have to tell me how the fuck you pulled this off.”

“Raw spite,” he answers dully.

Takumi smirks. “It’s powerful shit, ain’t it?” He drops the hood onto the ground and walks to Sousuke’s side for Kisumi. “Speaking of. I’m gonna leave the hood on you, tiger. You’ll just spit in my face.”

“You know me so well,” Kisumi responds.

“I’d sort of deserve it, if it makes you feel any better to know. I haven’t been the best to you in particular. Something about you pisses me right the fuck off.”

“Are you finished?” Yoko sighs.

“Hey hey, I’ve earned this.”

“I don’t care. Wrap it up.”

“All _right_. Shigino, come here. Heard they got started on you and I’d like to contribute real quick.”

Sousuke’s not feeling confident in any of this, but he sure as fuck isn’t about to let that happen again. He steps in front of Kisumi as Takumi takes a step closer, cutting in snugly enough to put them chest to chest.

“Ballsy.”

“Stop it,” Sousuke growls.

“What’re you planning to do about it?” Takumi laughs. He brings a hand up to pat Sousuke’s cheek mockingly, and clearly this guy will never stop underestimating Sousuke since he’s actually _surprised_ when Sousuke turns at his arm and sinks his teeth into the flesh of his forearm-

-right next to his watch, which is nothing Makoto would’ve given over willingly if he could’ve helped it. He’d forgotten all about it.

He lets go and steps back in numb shock as Takumi howls and cradles his arm to himself, and bumps into Kisumi. For whatever it helps, he twists a hand into the front of Kisumi’s shirt to keep himself upright.

“... Sou?”

“You _fucking_ _rat_ ,” Takumi hisses.

“Did you hurt them?” Sousuke asks heavily.

Takumi stands straight and keeps a hand over his arm, demeanor evening out as he looks down at the watch and back to him a few times. “You _noticed?_ What is the watch some sort of betrothal trinket, Yamazaki?” he laughs. “Tough luck then, Kissy.”

 _“Did you hurt them?!”_ he bellows again loud enough to bounce the echo as high as the tall ceiling.

Takumi fishes a cigarette from the box in his front pocket and takes a moment to light up, pull a drag, exhale, and regard Sousuke coldly through the smoke. When he speaks his theatrical teasing is nowhere to be found, replaced with a chilled tone that puts sweat on Sousuke’s brow.

“No. I needed you here for that part.”

“You-”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up and _listen,_ for once. Here’s the plan. l’m going to literally kick you into the basement where your friends are here in a minute. Then I’m going to finish what you started half-assed by burning this building to the ground while you’re down there. Had it set up for it as soon as I knew it was you. God fucking willing, Yamazaki, the entire thing is going to collapse and crush you _before_ the smoke gets you, and a day from now when it all stops smoldering, I’ll have the ashes swept up and fill in your fucking grave with concrete. How’s that sound? Got a way out of that one?”

“You don’t have to hurt anyone but me.”

“Which is _precisely why_ I gave you a day to come to me on your own and you fucking blew it, didn’t you? And now, I just sort of _want_ to make sure _all_ my liabilities are taken care of.”

Takumi nods to his men off to the side and all Sousuke can make out is the splatter of liquid falling onto concrete. He reflexively gathers more of Kisumi’s shirt into his unsteady fist when a sterile and sharp and _flammable_ smell cuts through the musk of the room, and Kisumi must smell it too as he falls tense soon after.

He doesn’t put two and two together right away as Takumi walks away from them and out of the light, but he does when the tip of the cigarette flashes bright orange in the dark as Takumi takes a final drag off it.

“ _Sakyo!”_

Yoko steps quickly forward. “We are still _here_ what are you _doing_ you moron?!”

“Forgot to mention, Yoko,” he says. “Your family is one of my liabilities, and I’ll need to make _sure_ you’re all taken care of this time. Personally. Always wanted a fire fight.”

“If I don’t return, your _entire_ operation will be turned over to the government. You think I’d come out here with minimal protection detail without some sort of insurance?!”

“Honey,” Takumi laughs. “Where the fuck do you think the rest of my men are _right now?”_

All at once, Takumi flicks his cigarette over his shoulder, the men in suits draw guns, and Sousuke falls to the ground and pulls Kisumi with him to get out of the crossfire. The entire room illuminates as the lit cigarette sparks a blaze, and Sousuke gets a look at all manner of old furniture and pieced out installation he vaguely recognizes from his racing arena stacked along the walls and everywhere to feed the flames. The entire place is going to catch in no time.

He does his best to inch out of the way while everyone else is distracted finding cover and blind firing, and Kisumi struggles behind him. They need to get out of these fucking zip ties before they can do anything else. Wood explodes over his head as the knocked over table he’s trying to hide behind is hit with a bullet in the corner. He takes his cover and looks from where he came from for Kisumi, who’s pushing back with his legs and having a hard time finding traction with his shoes. He’ll be hit if Sousuke doesn’t think quickly.

The zip ties are plastic, the fire is eating its way over. It’s a very simple solution looking him in the face that’s going to fucking hurt. He uses his legs and core to stand and stay bent forward to keep his head down, and quickly shuffles to the creeping flame to stand in front of and hold his arms out over as far as he can to keep the back of his shirt from catching.

Sousuke thinks he might crack his teeth for how hard he‘s grinding them together through the burn at his wrists. Just holding his arms over the flame is enough to melt and weaken his restraints, but the heat it’s giving off is nauseatingly painful on the thin skin of his wrists and hands. He pulls his arms apart until the plastic stretches and gives way, and he’s free. He’s burned enough that he doesn’t want to look at it and let his brain fully acknowledge the damage, and the scorch cuts so deep he’s woozy from it even in the middle of all of this.

He crawls back to Kisumi who’s fallen flat on his back and arms only half-covered by the table and rolls him onto his stomach without checking him over. He has no idea what he can cut Kisumi’s ties with, and whips his head around for anything sharp and only sees wood and fabrics. The table shoves towards them suddenly- nearly clipping Sousuke in the head with the leg- when one of Takumi’s men falls against it. To Sousuke’s left the fire is getting too fucking close, and Kisumi’s squirming to flip over and get away from it.

The man’s dead or dying at a glance over the edge of the table, so Sousuke takes a chance and searches his blood-soaked jacket for a knife, finally retrieving a switchblade from his pocket.

“Sousuke!” Kisumi shouts in a panic over all the noise as Sousuke takes cover again. It’s blisteringly hot, and the fire jumps to the table just as he’s able to cut Kisumi free. Every second drags for an eternity, every minute he’s spent here is another few feet the fire is inching toward that hallway. He has no idea where to begin to look for Makoto and Haru but they need to start looking _now_.

“Come on!” he shouts, grabbing Kisumi’s hand and pulling him up as he stands. They sprint across the room and try to stay to the side of the nine or so people in middle jumping cover in the skeleton of the arena seating or behind the refuse that’s littered about. He can’t make out Takumi anywhere, but doesn’t see anything looking like his body on the floor either.

The guy has his fucking watch so he better live and get out of here, for Sousuke’s sake.

Kisumi’s suddenly a dead weight pulling him down, and they crash hard to the floor. When he looks behind him for his friend as he offers a silent plea that whatever dropped him isn’t bad, he sees right away it is quite bad, if the dark rapidly staining over Kisumi’s pant leg is anything to go by.

“Kis,” he calls. “Kisumi!”

Kisumi only shakes his head and doesn’t unscrew his face from its grimace, so Sousuke lifts him by his arm and half-drags, half-hobbles him away. Debris from the ceiling begins to fall, small patches of charred matter raining down here and there, and the air is hazy and getting thicker. Once they break the corner into the hallway- the very same one they freed Makoto from his babysitters, he distantly recognizes- there’s a small window of breathing room to at least check on Kisumi.

Kisumi stumbles once Sousuke’s support is gone, and collapses after another step forward. It’s too dark and hazy to really see what the fuck happened, and he needs a second to breathe without Kisumi’s weight on him.

“Leg,” Kisumi finally manages to eek out. “Thigh or something- _fuck_ Sou.”

“Shit,” Sousuke breathes. “We need to find them and you have to walk, Kis.”

He shakes his head again. “This fuckin’ hurts,” he groans. “I can barely see straight. I can’t.”

“You _have_ to. Stand, come on, I’ll help.”

Kisumi shouts and digs his fingers hard into Sousuke’s shoulder once Sousuke pulls him up again without waiting for him to protest anymore. Something behind them pops loudly, and a fireball billows along the ceiling of the hallway followed by a rush of smoke. He ducks them low for the better air, and calls uselessy for Makoto or Haru, knowing full well they won’t hear him. They’ll have to try every door they come across, and there’s not even time for that.

“Basement,” he shouts. “Where the fuck?!”

“I have _no_ idea,” Kisumi answers.

Sousuke takes corners at random, backtracks at dead ends, and soon has to move so low to the ground to avoid the smoke he can’t keep his head up properly to see where he’s going. Kisumi’s weakening at his side, leaning on him more and more, and the strain on Sousuke’s body is slowly overpowering him.

Then he notices tiny scraps of lined yellow paper dropped every so often along the path to his right; the piece that catches his eye is scrawled with a legible _FUJI_ before it’s cut off that is distinctly in Kisumi’s handwriting from their brainstorming at the kotatsu. A literal goddamned paper trail and Sousuke cries out in relief when he catches on.

Renewed a bit, he follows it, and Kisumi sees it too.

“Holy shit,” Kisumi states breathlessly, easier to hear the farther away they get from the crackling blaze. “Those smart fuckers.”

It takes them through nothing more robust than a utility closet door they might’ve otherwise skipped and down a short stairwell. Sousuke’s heart is racing; sure Takumi _said_ they were unharmed, but he’s also clearly lost his fucking mind if this psychotic plan of mutual disposable is anything to go by. He remembers Nagisa mentioning his growing irrationality, but that was an understatement.

The smoke has made it even this far, and the basement is laid out in open barracks with wall dividers. Where fighters must’ve been dormed, he figures.

“Makoto!” he calls, and gets no response. “Haru!”

Sousuke stops and eases Kisumi down so he can move between the dividers faster. They’re okay here for a moment. Kisumi’s quick to sit and catch his breath and squeeze at his leg, and Sousuke lingers for another second to ensure he’s stable to be left alone.

He dips in and out of each area as he calls for them, hope faltering as he nears the end and catches no sight of anything, and finally- there they are, bound and gagged together and visibly relieved to see him. Sousuke unpockets the switchblade he held onto and quickly cuts their ankles and arms free, and lets them tend to the rags stuffed in their mouths on their own.

“ _Sousuke_ ,” Makoto chokes out hoarsely. “Your watch, I’m _so_ sorry-”

“I got it back,” he lies. “Don’t worry. Safe in my pocket.” He pats it for effect, and quickly stands so his shirt will fall over it before Makoto can focus and realize there’s nothing there.

“Takumi-”

“We don’t have time,” Sousuke interrupts.

“You found us,” Haru says in unfettered amazement as he and Makoto stand with him.

“Paper trail. Without that...” He sighs wearily. “It was close.”

“It was all I could think of on the fly,” Haru explains as if he’s apologetic that he didn’t come up with anything more helpful.

Sousuke can’t stop himself from clapping his hands down on Haru’s shoulders in a brief flash of happiness. Haru heaves under the gesture but doesn’t try to shuck him off. “No, what? You’re a fucking _genius_.”

“Your arms,” Makoto observes fretfully.

Being reminded of it makes him lightheaded again. He catches his angry red and blistering skin out of the corner of his eye and looks down from it. “Yeah they’re torched. We need to get out of here, it’s all coming down. Kisumi’s hurt and he’s bleeding bad so we have to move sooner rather than later.”

Makoto nods and gathers up the rags and nylon rope. “I can patch him up, I think.”

When they return to Kisumi, he’s breathing shallowly and doesn’t react to their approach.

“Kis,” Sousuke nudges.

“I’m dizzy,” he says simply and slurred.

Makoto squats down next to them and Haru keeps his distance. “Blood loss,” he states. Sousuke moves to defer to Makoto’s tending. Makoto never mentioned any experience with first aid, but he’s a fuck of a lot calmer administering it than Sousuke would be. He guides Kisumi onto his stomach after not finding whatever he’s looking for on the front of his leg.

“Here,” Makoto mumbles. “Tear in the fabric on the back of his thigh. Entry wound, no exit unfortunately. He needs a hospital for bullet removal but we can put pressure on it for now.”

Kisumi turns his head and looks miserably to Sousuke as Makoto ties a stack of folded rags to his leg with the rope. “Today is not my day.”

“Sorry buddy,” Sousuke consoles. “Let’s get out of here. Makoto do you know where an exit is?”

He nods. “I think so.”

Haru and Makoto offer to prop up Kisumi between them to allow Sousuke more rest, and it’s apparent as they climb the stairs into thick smoke that it’ll be a perilous walk out. His lungs catch and he begins to cough once they open the door, and staying low isn’t going to help them much anymore. Makoto leads them back out off of his memory of the place, and soon they’re near the main arena again where all he hears now are roaring flames and creaks as shit breaks and falls apart. He’s still alive, which is a good indicator that Takumi is at least not on _fire_ if not totally escaped, as the watch must still be in one piece.

“It’s this… way...” Makoto trails. “Oh.”

Sousuke follow Makoto’s gaze to a caved in hallway. “Fuck.”

The other door to the old lounge was blocked, he remembers. But maybe it isn’t anymore, or at least weak enough now to get through. “Come on, we need to run.”

As they cut across the arena they hop and sidestep and narrowly miss being hit by bits of falling beams. Sousuke can barely get a full chest of air before he’s choking on the toxic fumes, and he’s starting to lose his place mentally and his pace feels sluggish. The ground comes up to bite him; when he looks behind him he realizes he tripped over a body. Not Takumi’s.

Makoto pulls him up by his elbow calling for him, asking if he’s all right. He answers as well as he can and continues forward. The blockage in front of the main door has been moved to allow it to open just enough to fit if they go one by one. Sousuke braves it first. There’s fire on the other side where it’s eaten through the walls, and the lounge is in no better shape than what they’re leaving behind. Less was damaged here originally, so there’s more to burn, and the blaze is bright and unbearable and no way out is immediately made clear.

Makoto and Haru push Kisumi through next, and Sousuke catches him. Kisumi’s nearly unconscious, responsive only enough to cling to him. Haru’s next and takes Kisumi back, and Makoto is last and quickly putting himself at Sousuke’s side.

“Where do we go?” Makoto asks. He’s even hoarser than before and moves his mouth like he has to scream to get any of his voice out.

Sousuke scans the area again, and throws his arms in front of everyone reactively when a ceiling fan crashes to the floor not far from them. There’s a stretch of floor with licks of flame enough to make it look bad, but it isn’t entirely engulfed. If they’re fast they can get through it. Sousuke knows he hardly has it in him to run, but there’s no other path.

“Go, that way, Kis first we need to get him outside,” Sousuke yells. “Too narrow for all of us. Get him somewhere safe, Haru.”

Haru doesn’t waste any time once he sees the path Sousuke’s referring to. He pulls Kisumi’s arm tighter over his shoulders and makes a break for it. Makoto grabs Sousuke’s elbow again and edges him forward.

Haru is far ahead and gaining a sizeable distance over them, and it’s the only glimmer of hope he has that Kisumi is the closest to the front as he needs the air the most. A heavy piece of ceiling crashes close enough to him that embers fling from the force of it and pelt him along his side. Makoto pulls him away from it and stops to pat him down frantically, coughing and sputtering and soot-stained yet still able to make time slow for Sousuke when he looks at him with that face spilled over with endless worry, and now creeping resignation.

“It’s okay, Makoto,” Sousuke rasps. “Come on, we’re okay. Help me out.”

He nods mutely and continues to pull him along at what registers as a punishing pace, but can’t be much quicker than a brisk walk. Makoto reels back from more falling debris, and cries out when a few pieces fall over their hunched backs and burn partially through their shirts. Sousuke’s keeping his eyes on his feet so he doesn’t trip, and soon the area opens up again and the front doors leading out are only a few tens of meters away. The oxygen pouring in fuels the flames at the front making them larger and hotter the closer they get, but it’s the only way out.

“Almost there,” he encourages. “You’re gonna make it Makoto, you’re gonna go _home_.”

“I’m tired,” he cracks quietly as he moves them sluggishly.

“Stop it, you’re strong, your family needs you.”

It helps him move, empowers him to pull Sousuke along quicker. He stops briefly in front of another body and hesitantly steps them over it. It’s Yoko, and she’s not covered in settling soot. The blood pooling beneath her is still wet and running. Someone killed her very recently, and as he finishes the thought a large beam collapses and brings down much of the ceiling with it.

His heart stutters in his chest, and the few meters to the doors is suddenly an entire world away. He can’t breathe, he’s overheated and burned all over, the floor and ceiling flip positions as his head spins in deprivation. He can’t tell if it’s the watch pinned under rubble somewhere or just his body failing him.

“Sousuke!”

“Keep going. Don’t stop.”

So Makoto drags him when he trips and guides him when he can stand again, brokenly apologizing for grabbing him by his injured arms to do so and _fuck_ does that punch through everything else that’s wrong with him and register as raw agony that he can’t stop from ripping out of his throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Makoto chants over and over as if his guilt for hurting Sousuke is all he has left to get him to move.

They’re there, they’re _so_ close. It’s not as far as it seems.

“Up, _up_ ,” Makoto begs, “I’m so sorry, please stand up!”

Sousuke about blacks out as he’s pulled to stand. Makoto pushes him over an obstacle and he lands hard on the ground on the other side. He forces himself up with a hand clenched over his heart, and Makoto grabs his free arm to keep going towards the door barred by a wall of flame they’re just going to have to throw themselves through.

Something crashes into him with the force of a freight train, ripping him from Makoto’s grasp and sending him sprawling.

“ _There_ you are,” Takumi growls over him. “That sure didn’t work out all nice and one-sided like I thought it would! My men are useless. And I’m starting to wonder if you’re invincible.”

Takumi sinks a knee onto his chest and presses the barrel of a handgun to his forehead. Sousuke’s paralyzed with the first flood of fear he’s felt all day, and the ring of metal is scorching hot on his skin.

Makoto tackles him off in the next moment, and Sousuke rolls away from the scuffle. Takumi’s dropped the gun but is inching towards it as he struggles with Makoto. Sousuke finds the switchblade in his pocket and throws himself forward to put it all the way through the back of Takumi’s hand, pinning it firmly to a piece of scorched junk underneath.

It’s a chance to grab his watch that he won’t get to take; a skull-splitting crack over his head is louder than the flames or Takumi’s wail or anything else, and he sees the heavy piece of flaming wood falling from the high ceiling only in time to grab Makoto around the waist instead. He pulls back with everything he has, lifting and moving Makoto out of the way and sending them both backwards. Sousuke scrambles to his feet and pulls Makoto up with him as more charred and flaming ceiling falls along their path, and Takumi is quickly buried.

“He had the _watch_ ,” Makoto cries. “He had it! You lied to me!”

Sousuke snatches Makoto’s wrist as he tries to run back toward the rubble pile. “You can’t get it back!”

 _“You lied to me!”_ he screams and coughs, fighting against Sousuke’s vice grip as he’s pulled along. Sousuke’s certain his fingers will leave bruises on Makoto’s arm, and it’s oddly the only thought along a bleak sea of them that makes his dried out eyes cloud over with stubborn tears. But he won’t let him go.

“I trusted you! _Why did you lie to me?!”_

They’re here. The door is right there.

“Let me go! Let me find it! It’s going to _break_ I can’t lose you!”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and there’s no way Makoto hears him. The raging pop and crackle of the blaze dulls and fades away, the heat off the fire isn’t so sweltering, his persistent cough defanged to a scratch in his throat. Makoto struggles and flails but it feels weak to him now, he screams but it’s far away. Sousuke only sees the door and hears his faltering heartbeat in his ears.

Haru runs at them, no Kisumi in sight. That means he’s safe now, and Sousuke’s glad.

Makoto fights them both; Sousuke as he shoves him at Haru before he falls and Haru who grabs him with arms tight around his chest to force him through that damn door when Sousuke physically _can’t_ anymore. Makoto kicks his legs out and twists and grabs at Haru wherever he can to get free, and Sousuke hopes when he catches Haru’s hesitant, distraught gaze for a split second that Haru will _understand_ : do not let Makoto go.

He doesn’t, and if Haru tries to come back for him, Sousuke has no way of knowing.

* * *

 

Gou isn’t there to catch him this time, and it’s too dark to see.

“Sousuke Yamazaki.”

He’s shackled in irons at his wrists and ankles, though it’s nice that for a brief moment, he has no burns and his lungs are clear.

“I believe you know what’s next.”

He nods and takes a step forward towards the disembodied voice to submit to it.

“Follow me.”

Sousuke follows its presence, the chilling pressure at his back pushing him along. It pulls at his will, tells him it is his only salvation, implies he’ll be left here alone if he does not move. It’s not that it’s dark, it’s that there’s _nothing_. Even if he had a way to make light, it couldn’t exist here. He wonders just how deep this hell is, how long it will take to walk to, and decides it doesn’t matter. No matter what he’s doing, it’s forever. And forever is a long time.

“I wanted to say goodbye. I wanted to see him without the bruises,” Sousuke says. “I still wasn’t ready.”

“You’ve done quite enough.”

There’s a pinpoint of light very far away that he nearly doesn’t catch, or the equivalent of what a light could be here. It can’t get any closer to him, but when Sousuke sidesteps towards it, he feels he’s the one who’s able to move.

“Follow me,” the pressure repeats.

And when has he ever done what he’s told?

He walks towards it. However long it’s going to take to get to it to find out what it could be. He has forever.

The pressure keeps speaking; _follow me, follow me_ and its demands start to sound hollow the more determined he is to close the distance. His shackles are lighter until suddenly they’re not there anymore as the spot grows brighter and brighter, stark white with bits of yellow. It’s not a pinpoint, it’s a shape.

It’s not just any shape, it’s a dress.

Sousuke reaches out to touch her and retracts his hand once in fear before trying again. Solid matter feels strange in this place, like it shouldn’t be there. Gou leans into his hand at her cheek briefly to reassure him and steps away from it just as quickly.

“You’re right, the dress helps.”

She smiles, awash with relief. “I almost lost you out here! Are you ready?”

“I’m not,” he laughs. “Think I could convince you to take me to say goodbye?”

Gou sighs loudly. “The _audacity_ after all I’ve done to even fight my way down to this level _and_ get your attention.”

“I know. I’m still going to ask.”

“ _Sousuke_.”

“I’m never going to see them again,” he says, choked. “ _Never_. Please. Just to say goodbye.”

“If I fight you on this why do I have a feeling you’re going to find a way to do it anyway?”

“I won’t. If you don’t want to take me to do it, we don’t go. I’m just asking this time.”

She’s quiet a moment, then extends her hand to him. “Follow me.”

* * *

 

Kisumi’s on the pier in the dead of night, legs dangling over the edge. Sousuke sits down next to him, and it’s enough of a presence to make Kisumi look up and around for a source but not see him.

“Hey you ass,” Kisumi says. “In case that’s you come to haunt me.”

Sousuke stares out over the water, trapped behind opaque glass. Kisumi won’t hear him.

“How long’s it been for you? A few minutes? Two months here, you know. I’m healing.” He stills his swinging legs. “Well, physically.”

You’ll be okay, Sousuke wants to say.

Kisumi sighs. “Anyway… if you got any bright ideas for me, I could use them. I don’t know what to do, Sou. It’s uh-” He clears his throat. “Really difficult right now. To do anything. I know, if it _is_ you here right now and I’m not just losing my fucking mind, you’re probably telling me I’ll be okay. I know it’s what you’d say. So thanks for your useless fucking advice, as always.”

Sousuke smiles.

“But,” Kisumi sniffs. “I miss you _so_ fucking much, and it’s hard to believe you right now. I don’t think you’re coming back this time and I never learned how to be okay without you.”

Try, Sousuke mouths.

“I will,” Kisumi answers.

* * *

 

Makoto stirs and sits up in his bed in his home when Sousuke sits at the foot. Haru sleeps soundly on the floor on a futon. Makoto’s not awake or sleeping, somewhere inbetween, and looks right at him, but also through him.

“Is it real?” he asks. “I was dreaming about you again, hoping one day it might be.”

“Could be,” Sousuke says. “Maybe you won’t remember this when you wake up tomorrow, and then it won’t matter if it was or not.”

“Maybe, but you still kept your promise.”

“I guess so, huh?” Sousuke laughs lightly. “How’s your family?”

“Safe,” he answers thickly. “They’re safe and we’re together.”

Sousuke nods to himself and looks down at his lap briefly before reminding himself he should really be taking in Makoto’s image instead. It’s one of the things he came back for. His bruises are gone and his mouth ruts deeper at the corners than it did when Sousuke met him. He’s been smiling more, and still as gorgeous as he’s always been. It makes Sousuke’s chest tight, and Makoto’s newly sprouting happiness settles a warm and sleepy peace over Sousuke’s tired soul.

Makoto wrings his hands in his lap, visibly at odds with a smile or tears. “How long can you stay?” he asks quietly

“... I have to go now.”

“Okay,” Makoto breathes.

“You gonna be okay?”

He nods a few times. “I think so.”

“Can you do me a favor?”

He nods again.

“Help Kis.”

“We’ve been looking,” Makoto breaks unevenly. “We can’t find him.”

“I think he’ll come to you now, so take care of him for me when he finds his way over. He doesn’t have anyone else.”

“I will. I promise. I won’t forget when I wake up. I refuse to forget.”

It’s all he can hope for, and Sousuke knows he can trust him.

“Good. Good. Thank you. Tell Haru thanks too.”

“Okay.”

“And I’m sorry I lied to you.”

Makoto shakes his head dismissively. “I love you. I should’ve told you that sooner.”

“Yeah, I love you,” Sousuke agrees easily. “A lot.”

Makoto finally does smile, brightly enough that Sousuke forgets there were tears. “Get going,” he says. “Before I try to come up with a way to keep you here and get myself in trouble.”

Sousuke gets to take Makoto’s smile with him.

 _All right, Gou_.

* * *

 

“ _Nope!_ ” Rin shouts. “Nu uh! Sto- _op_!”

Gou and Sousuke do as they’re commanded, and turn to look up the skinny wooden bridge over the gaping chasm they’ve been crossing into hell to find Rin running down towards them.

“ _Rin_?” Gou asks in genuine confusion.

“Loophole!” Rin shouts breathlessly as he comes to a stop with his hands on his thighs. “Barely got it overturned in time.”

“Loophole,” Sousuke parrots dumbly.

Rin stands straight and grins. “Self-sacrifice is a _very_ decent argument for an appeal. Turns out you’re not the first in the history of your species to cheat death and get into heaven anyway, and you’re certainly not the first shitty lowlife to willfully die for someone else in a moment of selfless love. Good karma! And _legal precedent_. Anyway long story short, I took it to administration, we had a lot of meetings. And I mean a _lot of meetings_ \- you fucking owe me for that- and the archangels that be agreed to overturn your eternity in hell sentence and re-instate your original judgement call. The self-sacrifice is heavenly good equivalent to the evil selfish vengeful shit you pulled to go back to earth! Cancels itself out. _Nice_ , right?”

“Oh! Sousuke!” Gou gushes. “This is _incredible_!”

“... I get to go back to heaven?”

“Always slow on the uptake, aren’t ya?” Rin groans. “ _Yes_. Now let’s go.”

“I can see them again,” he mumbles. “One day. I’ll get to. We can have dinner.”

“Yes! Good boy, _very_ good boy! Now we gotta go, this is not a place for loitering.”

Sousuke turns and pulls Gou into a tight hug, overcome with elation. She hugs him back and laughs with him, then pushes him gently towards Rin in relinquishment.

“Visit me?” Sousuke asks.

“There’s no way you won’t drive Rin up the wall. Someone will have to break up your fights.”

Sousuke grins, satisfied with that, and steps towards Rin.

“See ya, sis. Until the next sorry asshole stumbles by.”

Gou giggles and waves, then turns to continue diligently on her path.

Rin turns a half-hearted glare at Sousuke after she’s far enough away that she’s only a white swatch in the darkening distance.

“Are you _finally_ fucking ready?”

 


End file.
